


Darkly Through a Glass

by HashtagLEH



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Antonia Natasha Stark, Background torture, Brain Damage, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Canon-Typical Violence, Cinnamon Roll Steve Rogers, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Confused Tony Stark, Construction Worker Steve Rogers, Crack Treated Seriously, Declarations Of Love, Dimension Travel, Falling In Love, Female Tony Stark, Fluff and Angst, Genius Tony Stark, Happy Ending, Harry Potter References, Horny Steve Rogers, Idiots in Love, Innuendoes, Light Angst, M/M, Mechanic Tony Stark, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Schmoop, Sex Shop Owner Tony Stark, Sex Toys, Spy Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Stubborn Tony Stark, Tattoo Artist Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Winter Captain - Freeform, Winter Soldier Tony Stark, but no actual sex, goddesses eff with relationships, it's like a bad fanfiction, lol 'like', stark naked, that's not a recognized tag already wtf, that's the same in any dimension, they mean well though, tony can't even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-06-14 19:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15395925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashtagLEH/pseuds/HashtagLEH
Summary: Thanks to the whims of some "goddess", Tony finds himself transported through several different universes where he sees that he and Steve are always in love. Shame in his own universe they hate each other. (But do they, really?)





	1. (Probably) Not Insane

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! For anyone who has been following my other fics, I'm sure you've noticed that my activity in fanfiction in general has been nonexistent. I was going through some personal things in my life that didn't allow for writing anything or updating, and I just really needed a break where I could work on my mental health. I have written the first couple of chapters of this fic though, and I'm doing pretty good, so I think this is one that I'm going to be able to finish. I don't know when or if I'll get back to my other incomplete fics - I'll need to work on a few more things before I know for sure. Thank you to everyone who has been so patient with me! I hope to be able to finish those works but it will take some time. For now, please enjoy this fic!

Tony was pretty sure he was mostly sane.

Key word being "mostly."

See, he was used to people calling him insane quite frequently. To be fair, he did have a habit of creating things at the end of forty-hour workshop binges that would leave his sanity up to question, were he to ever make them public. One memorable occasion, he had been found in hysterics because he'd built a perpetual motion machine that kept a slinky going. And of course it had been Rogers to find him, who thought it was the slinky he'd invented and not the machine to keep it going, but that was besides the point. Rogers would've - and  _did_ \- find him insane either way.

The problem was that Tony was pretty sure he was not where he was supposed to be, which was of course a natural state for him, getting in places he shouldn't. He took it as a challenge when someone told him 'no', and had ended up in a lot of tight spots because of it. 

The thing was, this time it wasn't even Tony's  _fault_. He hadn't even been  _trying_ to get where he was, and now he was looking for someone to blame.

It all started the day before.

***

"He's so self-righteous!" Tony exclaimed frustratedly, in the middle of a rant about his least favorite person, next to maybe Loki. Maybe. "I can do whatever I want in my workshop, and I don't need the Capsicle berating me for not wearing gloves or 'proper safety equipment'!"

"You really should wear more protection in the lab," Bruce said tiredly from where he was sitting at the table next to Tony's. "I've been telling you that since I moved in here and found you not wearing shoes while using a sautering iron."

"And  _you_ can tell me whatever you want, Brucie-Bear; you're my friend," Tony fired back. "That gives you points, or rights, or something. But Frostbite is just a pain in my ass - and not in the good way! Although..." his expression became speculative as he spun in his chair. "Do you think he would be the one to top? All that self-righteous, Alpha posturing has got to be hiding the secret that he would just  _love_ to have someone behind him to just  _give_  it to him."

"I did  _not_ come down here to discuss Steve's sexual desires," Bruce said longsufferingly. "Clearly the idea of 'sciencing' was just a ruse."

"Of course not, Jolly Green - we'll do science!" Tony assured him. "But, the point is probably moot anyway. I'm sure he's straighter than the lines of his ironed and starched  _khakis_." His disgusted expression at the last word illustrated exactly what he thought of the Captain's wardrobe choices, and just like that, he was off on another rant.

"Honestly, why do I even  _bother_ giving him a black card to do with it whatever he wants?" he demanded. "He makes  _terrible_ choices with his purchases. Not  _once_  have I seen him in a pair of jeans! And the only suit I see him in is the Captain America one. If he's just going to waste his options with things like  _Macy's_ or, God forbid,  _Target_ "--he gave a full-body shudder at the last one, but Bruce was pretty sure he was just being dramatic because he knew several of Tony's band shirts came from the very store he'd just cursed--"then  _why_  are we trusting him with  _America_?

"And another thing," he went on with his rant, "I can understand ordering online and not getting the right size for your shirts. But continuing to wear those poor shirts whose threads must be bursting at more than just the seams is just preposterous! We are  _not_ in the Depression anymore - it's okay to just buy all the same shirts a couple sizes bigger!"

"Are you saying his body is distracting?" Bruce questioned dryly, then kicked himself for encouraging that much more discussion - if it could be called that - about Steve Rogers.

"Of course it's distracting, Green Bean," Tony sighed longsufferingly. "Even a man as heterosexual as you has to recognize the physically flawless beauty that is Steven Grant Rogers. Have you seen that ass? Of course you have. You can bounce a quarter off of it. 

"So, it's too bad that he's a metaphorical tight ass as well, because then when you look up from all the muscles he flaunts on display and get up to his face, you instantly remember why you only date people in  _your_ generation, not your grandfather's."

"Technically, he was in your father's generation," Bruce pointed out, and then wondered again why he was encouraging this.

"Howard was old enough to be my grandfather when I was conceived, you know this," Tony dismissed. "Point is, he is rude, arrogant, and bossy, and he can't be coming down to my lab to yell at me for how I do my job!"

"I'm sure he's just concerned for your safety..." Bruce tried, but Tony interrupted him. 

"Bruce,  _you_ are concerned for my safety.  _Pepper_  is concerned for my safety. I know what concern looks like, and Freezer Burn's brand is not it. He looks like he swallowed a lemon when he talks to me. That's how female reporters from Vanity Fair who hate my guts look at me. Klondike Bar just needs a convenient person to yell at to release some stress. Howard did it too, so I'm very familiar with the idea.

"Anyway, let's science - isn't that what you came down here for?" Tony said abruptly.

Bruce knew that was the end of the conversation. Tony was probably the most stubborn person he knew, and when he decided to stop talking about something, not even the Ten Rings could get more out of him. 

Times like these was when Bruce really just wanted to bang Steve and Tony's heads together. Steve was the other most stubborn person Bruce knew, and putting the two of them together was like oil and water. They both got their backs up like angry cats, assuming that the person they'd met on the helicarrier, under the influence of Loki's scepter, was the real them and that's how they should treat each other. Tony was a genius, and Steve was no idiot himself, but Bruce was pretty sure that it had occurred to neither of them that the scepter could have such an influence on the other. If it had, they refused to accept it.

Later, as he left Tony's lab in search of food, he prayed to whatever gods were out there that Tony especially would be able to see the real Steve. That would be a good start to Steve being able to see the real Tony.

***

Tony dreamed. He didn't usually dream anything besides nightmares, but this time his dream was just one of those innocent, nonsensical ones he would forget immediately upon waking because there was no clear beginning, middle, or end.

He dreamed that he was in the workshop. Rogers came in, noticed his lack of helmet, and went into a tirade about blindness and something about water? Tony wasn't sure - in the dream, he was stuck, not moving, just staring at the perfectly shaped lips as they moved in scolding words he couldn't hear.

He was swimming now, and normally he might be nervous about being underwater, but this was a dream and he could breathe here, and besides, Natasha and Clint were on one side and Rogers was on the other, and he was pretty sure that was Thor and Bruce behind him, so really he was fine. It was a pretty big pool though, and he couldn't see the walls of it, and what was that sparkle up ahead? It looked like more than just a light, it looked - otherworldly. He tried swimming faster toward it, just to see, because he was curious -

And then he was flying, except he wasn't in the suit, but the HUD screen was still in front of his eyes, and he was looking down at a party. And there he was - just six years old, looking bored in the far corner of the room. And he remembered this party, this is one where Mrs. Vanderpool died, except she was standing right there in front of him, and she was talking to a man with dark hair, and was that a glint of metal where the man's hand should've been? And he was swooping down, trying to get to his younger self and usher him away before he saw what happened -

Then suddenly he was under one of his cars in the workshop, working on it, and the board he was rolling around on was pulled out. He looked up through bleary eyes and saw blond hair - Rogers, looking down at him with an unreadable expression.

"You okay?" Tony thought he asked.

"Your dreams jump around a lot - it's hard to get a hold of them," Rogers informed him, and he thought it sounded pretty clear, but that wasn't quite Rogers' voice.

"Don't worry about it, Tony Stark," Rogers said, and since when did he have green eyes?

"I said,  _hush_ ," Rogers said, getting closer to him, the 'sh' sound drawn out as their faces came inches from each other. Rogers' hand touched his cheek, and somehow the hand that was normally so large and demanding was gentle and almost feminine.

"It will be alright," Not-Rogers said, and even though Tony was suspicious, he believed him. This was just a dream, nothing could hurt him...

"That's right," Not-Rogers went on, apparently knowing what he was feeling, and why not? This was just a dream. Reading his thoughts didn't even make a blip on the radar of weird things he'd experienced. Wasn't he just breathing underwater?

"You will come back to the world you know, eventually," Not-Rogers said. "You just need to figure out a few things first."

"'m I going to Asgard?" Tony questioned, his speech a bit slower, like he was speaking through a mouthful of honey. Asgard would be cool, he thought. Thor made it sound that way, anyway. And Loki was locked up, so it was fine.

"Not quite," Not-Rogers said with a secretive little smile that didn't seem to belong on that face. It wasn't an expression he ever thought he'd see on Rogers, but this wasn't Rogers, so he supposed he'd let it slide.

"Just remember, Tony Stark," he - she? - cautioned. "This is not a dream. Take these things to heart."

"Okay," Tony agreed, having no idea what he was agreeing to.

And, just like that, he woke up.

And it was from just about that moment that he truly began to wonder about his sanity.

Because standing right there in front of him in his workshop, hands on his hips and affronted expression on his face, was a very skinny, _very hot,_ Steve Rogers.

So of course Tony, being Tony, blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"Did you get hit by a shrink-ray?"


	2. Spy Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support last chapter!

"Did you get hit by a shrink ray?"

"Haha, Tony, very funny," Rogers rolled his eyes. At least his eyes were the same ocean blue they'd always been. And his voice was mostly the same - just didn't reverberate so much.

"Fury called, said he needs me on another trip to Prague," Rogers went on as though his current state of being pocket-sized was inconsequential. "Shouldn't take too long - Tasha is already on the ground and I'm headed out in ten minutes. Fury wants you to be the backup hard-hitter in case things go south, so stay on the comms."

"Any reason he couldn't tell me this himself?" Tony questioned, deciding to just roll with whatever the hell was going on and freak out/ask questions later.

Rogers gave him a look so dry it might have been familiar, if Tony hadn't detected fondness mingled in with the look, which was - huh. Weird.

"Could it maybe have something to do with the fact that last time you spoke, you threatened that if any of the team got so much as a sprained ankle within SHIELD's walls that you would not only pull funding for Project Insight but that you would personally remove Fury's remaining eye and feed it to him disguised in an egg salad sandwich so that he would then be out of job as well as intestines as the diarrhea would be so bad he wouldn't be seen for three days, thanks to eating something he was so allergic to?"

"Well, that makes sense, I suppose," Tony agreed, even as he wondered at when he might have said that. He didn't remember saying that. Maybe he'd been sleep deprived? But what injury could it have been to one of the team that he might have been so angry to make that threat to Fury?

"Mm," Rogers hummed in agreement, smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "And we all know not to touch Tony's things - it's about time Fury learned that, too."

Tony was surprised to hear those words coming so  _fondly_ out of Rogers' mouth. He'd said many times that other people shouldn't touch his things, but he was pretty sure Rogers didn't even care to humor him there. Apparently this was not the case.

"And here I thought you couldn't teach an old dog new tricks," Tony recovered, still trying to figure out what was going on.

"Well, it could be argued that you taught  _me_ ," Rogers countered almost absentmindedly. "Anyway, I've gotta head off - hopefully I won't need to hear from you till I'm back."

And suddenly it hit Tony - Rogers was going off on a mission, while he was  _pint-sized_. And he wasn't wearing a Captain America uniform - he was wearing more what Natasha did; black cargo pants, black tee, black leather jacket arrayed with pockets full of weapons. And he was acting like it was totally  _normal_.

Tony was just beginning to wonder if he was in an alternate universe where things didn't make sense when Rogers leaned over where he still sat on the couch he'd apparently fallen asleep on, and pressed his lips quckly to Tony's.

It was nothing more than a peck, very chaste and above the waistline, but it left Tony reeling more than if Rogers had hauled off and whacked him in the face. 

Because it was still a  _kiss_. Something people share when they are affectionate or in a relationship. And it was done just casually enough that it seemed to be something Rogers was used to doing. Doing with  _him_.

And  _that_ was the weird part. Because Rogers hated his guts. Why would he voluntarily touch their lips together?

Maybe it was hate sex, Tony wondered as he watched Rogers walk out of the workshop. But that theory didn't quite make sense, either. Not with the way that kiss was administered, right before the man left for a potentially dangerous mission.

That's it, Tony decided. He was either in an alternate universe and therefore a skewed reality, or he really  _was_ insane.

Well, he thought, there was no way to come to any formal conclusion except by further investigation.

Starting with JARVIS.

***

JARVIS was, of course, just as much help as Tony had anticipated him to be. At least in this fuckery of a world he still had JARVIS. He could congratulate his other self - the one who  _belonged_ in this world, because Tony clearly didn't - for being smart enough to create JARVIS, because JARVIS was a godsend every time he needed him.

The problem was, Tony was presented with the data. But his brain just couldn't comprehend it. Because the data read that he and Rogers - Steve, he should remember to call him Steve while here, because that's what the other Tony did - had been an  _item_ for nine months now. Almost immediately following the attack on New York they had started dating, and they were still going strong.

And besides  _that_ truly weird part of this universe's history, Rogers - Steve - had never been Captain America. He was  _Agent_ America. As in, no Star-Spangled Man with a Plan dancing on stage with USO showgirls during the War. He had still underwent Project Rebirth, but his physical growth hadn't occurred. He'd merely been healed from his physical ailments, given greater stamina and rapidity in healing, and become probably 600% more stubborn. But maybe that last part had already been there.

But, after the government had deemed Dr. Erskine's project - and him - a failure, Steve had then gone on to beat all the odds when he had impressed Peggy Carter and the General with increased cognitive abilities combined with stubbornness, and through his espionage, had saved the captured 107th after he hadn't gotten a letter from his pal Bucky in their agreed upon time. The rest had been literal history, as he continued by using the Howling Commandoes as a front for all of the brunt work, and he had gotten all of the work done behind the scenes. He had still been the one to go after the Red Skull on the plane, and had still driven it into the ice, and "Agent America" had become his nickname after the fact, once the people found out about it. Now, they knew that Agent America was back - or at least that someone else had taken his place. Steve's identity was still kept a secret from the world outside, so that he could still continue his work in espionage. Tony just wondered how his identity had been kept secret when everyone knew about his and Tony's relationship.

And then, he came upon the information that Iron Man's identity was still a secret from the world, and people thought that Tony was dating one of the faceless workers from Stark Industries. Well, that made sense, he supposed. He just wondered what it was that had convinced him to keep Iron Man's identity a secret. JARVIS was not forthcoming on the matter, saying that he didn't know, but Tony knew JARVIS and was pretty sure that he was a scheming, filthy liar.

He did stay on the comms, keeping his end on mute, and luckily there were no problems on Steve's end and it sounded like it was all resolved after about twenty minutes with Steve on the ground. Natasha had already completed a large part of it.

It was a bit surreal to hear Steve being quiet, not smashing his way through things with that Frisbee of his but being secretive, getting in and out with what he needed in no time at all. What he needed was unclear to Tony - some kind of flash drive with whatever enemy information on it. It didn't really matter, as far as Tony was concerned.

No, what mattered more was Tony freaking the  _fuck_ out and trying to figure out how he got to this universe, and how to get off of it and back to his own.

***

"Do you feel like Tony is acting weird?" Steve asked Natasha as he swirled his spoon around in his cup of banana fro-yo.

"Define 'weird'," Natasha said dryly, scooping out an obscene amount of her cake batter fro-yo onto her spoon and taking little bites off of it. 

"The way you eat your fro-yo, for example," Steve snarked. Natasha flipped him the bird and continued to eat the dessert as she had been, waiting for a better answer from him.

Steve sighed and stabbed his yogurt a couple of times with his spoon, playing with it more than eating it. 

"I don't know," he admitted. "Just ever since that trip"--he knew she would know what he was talking about, aware of possible ears on them in such a public setting--"he's just been slightly off. He called me a 'capsicle' the other day and then looked panicked, like he'd said something wrong. Is capsicle a word from this century that I just don't know?"

"Not in any language  _I'm_ aware of," Natasha returned neautrally. "Are you sure it was 'capsicle' that you heard?"

"Pretty sure," Steve said. "But I might've heard wrong."

"Is that all there is?" Natasha questioned when he didn't go on. She hummed in delight when one of her bites got a bit of cheesecake in it.

"No," Steve said. "Yes. I don't know. He's just -  _different_. I can't exactly put it into words, it just doesn't... _feel_  like him. And ever since that trip, he's been working in the shop every night rather than coming up to bed."

"I think you just need to go on a date," Natasha declared decisively. "When was the last time it was just the two of you, without eyes on you and without any mission agenda in mind?"

"Probably too long, considering I can't remember the last time," Steve admitted. "Maybe movie night? Last month?"

"Yeah, get out of the Tower for this one," Natasha ordered. "Treat him to something special. Maybe he's just feeling neglected and his ego can't take it."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You know he's not like that."

"I do know that he's not what he is in front of the media," Natasha agreed. "But he also probably doesn't appreciate being second to Fury."

Steve gaped. "I'm  _not_ choosing Fury over Tony!" he protested.

"Maybe, maybe not," Natasha shrugged like it didn't matter, but Steve knew her well enough to know that she thought that's exactly what he was doing, however unintended it was. "But you should probably assure Tony that that's not the case. I know that you know not to do it in words but in actions. That's what Tony recognizes more."

"Sure, sure," Steve muttered. "So, what should I do? Where should we go?"

"I'll leave that one up to you, Rogers," Natasha said, shoving the last bit of fro-yo into her mouth. "He's your boyfriend, not mine. You know what he likes."

Steve rolled his eyes and sighed. "Alright," he said. "I'll think of something."

***

Tony would never be able to explain why he kept some things a secret. Why should he bother keeping the truth of who he was from these people? Well, they might lock him in the loony bin for eternity if he did. But then again, they had a man who could turn into an angry green giant living in their tower. What was a dimension-hopping billionaire when held up against the standard they'd already created?

No. There was just no point in telling them. He could figure out how to get back on his own, thank you very much. No one else would be of any use.They'd probably just want to know all about his world, how he got here, etc. That is, if they didn't think he was an enemy spy. That could go south really quickly.

The point was, there were several small reasons and 'what ifs' that, when compiled together, made for a Very Serious Problem in which he just decided to keep quiet about it all. The best way to keep the integrity of the experiment valid was to have the least amount of variables possible. The new universe that Tony had to navigate around was a big enough - fucked-up enough - variable that he didn't want or need to have to deal with any more than that.

There were a couple of problems with this plan. The first being that he had no fucking clue where to start. As far as he knew, he woke up here. There was no battle or spectacular explosion or a rift opening in his workshop that Dummy shoved him through. He thought he might have remembered something about Steve, but he didn't know for sure. The memories were hazy, as dreams always were.

The second problem came by the fact that  _because_  no one else knew that there  _was_ a problem with the Tony that was inhabiting their world, they were not just leaving him down here in the workshop in peace to figure what the fuck was going on.

Because now Rogers -  _Steve_ \- was down here in the workshop, asking him on a date and looking too fucking perfect and hopeful, like if Tony said no it would be equivalent to as though he had strangled puppies to death with his bare hands right in front of him. Or something. And the problem was, this wasn't reserved just for this Steve. It wasn't just because this Steve was cute and small and made Tony want to wrap him in a warm blanket and send him to bed, but also made him want to grab him and  _take_ him to bed for other naughty - less child friendly - activities.

Wait, what? No. He didn't want to do that. This wasn't  _his_ Steve. Or. The Steve from his universe. And he didn't want to do that to  _his_ Steve either, because the Steve from his universe was a pompous prick too self-righteous for his own good.

And this Steve was a sarcastic little shit with a heart of gold and a need to prove himself. Tony may or may not have spent a few hours while Steve was on his way from Prague going over old footage in the tower that JARVIS thought best illustrated the relationship between the two - the better to play the part, of course. Not because he liked to watch the fiery little snot, no sir.

And now, Steve wanted to go on a  _date_. With  _him_.

Tony almost blurted out a few choice things that would've blown his cover immediately and shot any chance at a date, but he remembered where he was as soon as he saw the honesty on Rogers' face - not derision or mocking - and he saved it just in time.

Thankfully, this universe's Tony was very similar to himself, so his save wasn't noticeable as such. 

"Sure, Steve - that'd be great," he said with a little smile-smirk, like this was all casual. "Do I get to know where we're headed this time?"

"Nope," Steve said, popping the p at the end. "Wear something casual. I'll come by at eight."

"Sounds like a plan," Tony agreed, barely refraining from making a joke about the 'Man With a Plan'.

"I'll let you get back to work till then - I know you'll stress about being behind otherwise," Steve said with a wry smirk. He leaned forward, giving Tony a quick peck - on the nose, of all things - before saying, "Love you," and walking back up the stairs to the main floor.

Tony sat there for much too long, shell-shocked at the blunt honesty with which the blond man had said those words. And here Tony had always seen him as emotionally constipated. But that frank honesty was not something he would've expected.

Much later, he shook himself, shaking the thoughts physically from his head, before directing his next words at JARVIS.

"JARVIS," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm going to need a video camera I can attach to one of my shirt buttons. The real Tony - the Tony from  _this_  universe, I mean - needs to be able to remember this date for the future."

"Of course, Sir. Any particular reason why?" JARVIS said.

"Well, dates are things that need to be remembered!" Tony exclaimed. "What if they talk about this night in the future, and Steve's Tony doesn't remember any of what's going on here - he'll hurt Steve's feelings for forgetting! Don't question this, JARVIS."

"As you wish, Sir," JARVIS said. "I believe Agent Rogers broke one of his button cameras two weeks ago that you have repaired and neglected to return to him. Perhaps you might use that one?"

"Good plan, J, good plan," Tony said agreeably. "Alright. So, back to working on universe hopping. I wonder if Thor knows anything about this? You know what, start searching in Norse mythology for anything about it. And start compiling everything to do with me being here in an easily accessible folder for this Tony to find when he comes back."

"Are you ceratin that he _will_ be back, Sir?" JARVIS said.

"Hey, what did I say about questioning me?" Tony snapped, before he sighed and rubbed his face. "I don't know, J. I guess we'll cross that bridge if we ever come to it. For now, we'll just see what we've got."

***

They went to a car show. 

Tony  _loved_ car shows.

Tony remembered when he was little, going to a few shows with Howard. It was one of the few pleasant memories he had of the man. He had still been attempting to make a flying car, and investigating the different models had become something of a hobby used for his work as he figured out which metals were best or which engines matched best to what he was trying to achieve.

Howard had eventually given up on this dream so as to focus completely on designing and building weapons, and the car shows had stopped around the same time he stopped caring so much about Tony and the abuse had started.

But Tony still enjoyed the car shows, even when thoughts of Howard would creep in. That didn't happen as often anymore as he built new memories of going to these with Rhodey, or Pepper's irritated voice in his ear as he missed yet  _another_ meeting in favor of these shows.

He knew Steve didn't care about the cars, but Steve seemed to be having just as much fun as Tony was, watching Tony bounce from car to car. It was fun, and lighthearted, and Tony didn't have to pretend to be the Tony from this world, because both of them enjoyed car shows just as much, apparently.

One of the best parts was that because it was a different universe, there were slight modifications on some of these models that brought new ideas to how Tony could work his own cars back home. Tony was pretty excited, jotting down mental notes with every new find.

Afterwards, they went to IHOP for all-you-can-eat pancakes, half because it was one of the few things open at that hour and half because pancakes were delicious.

Those poor IHOP workers...

"Thanks for the night, Steve," Tony remembered to say as they rode the elevator back up to the penthouse. That was something this universe's Tony would remember to say, right? 

"You just use me for pancakes," Steve said dryly.

Tony snorted, on more sure ground now that feelings were out of the way. "That might be believable if you hadn't eaten about four times more than  _I_ did. What was it, forty-three pancakes?"

"Forty- _nine_ ," Steve emphasized. "I beat my record."

"I believe you," Tony informed him as the elevator doors opened on their floor. "I think the workers are concerned for your permanent health after tonight. And you're standing there, all perfectly fine - could probably eat more, really..."

"I don't know about  _that_..." Steve cut in.

Tony continued to talk over him, "...But  _I_ , for one, am stuffed after only eleven, and I'm ready to pass out. The bed sounds like a good place to do it."

"Sounds perfect," Steve murmured, tugging Tony by the hand into the bedroom. Warily, Tony followed, suddenly realizing where this might be headed and not willing to take advantage of the other Tony's Steve like that. How was he going to handle this? It would be odd to act out of character, and Tony had just been following Steve's lead. If Steve tried starting those fun, naked activities, then that would mean that Steve was used to this kind of thing after dates and it would look odd for Tony to refuse. But he _had_ to refuse - if he didn't, it would be like Steve was cheating on his _real_ boyfriend. Tony couldn't have that on his conscience. Besides the fact that if he slept with _this_ Steve, how on earth was he supposed to look the Steve from _his_ universe in the eye ever again?

But, everything stayed perfectly chaste as they slipped off shoes and clothes, climbing into bed just in their boxers. Tony wasn't sure exactly what to do, what was normal for them, but Steve solved this problem by shoving his back into Tony's chest and cuddling there, effectively shutting out most of the light of the arc reactor. Tony wrapped his arms around the only slightly smaller man, feeling his heart pound as he did so.

He was touching Cap. Or, not  _Cap_ , but close enough. The almost-Captain was almost naked, and they were cuddling in bed like everything about this was perfectly normal. And for Steve, it was. But to Tony, it still felt like he was taking something that his Steve - or, the Captain - would never grant him permission to do. Suddenly, somehow, this felt much worse than if they'd simply had sex. This was bringing feelings - _intimacy_ \- into their interactions. And to Tony, who knew he didn't belong here, this felt like theft. Steve had not given _him_ permission to do this. This was supposed to be reserved strictly for the Tony of this world.

Several minutes later, Steve was snoring, and Tony relaxed a little bit more. Luckily he had gotten good enough with his body language that he'd had zero tenseness in his muscles, seeming languid as he fell asleep, but now that he knew Steve was asleep, his brain relaxed its tight hold a bit more.

"JARVIS?" Tony whispered, and the hairs on Steve's head tickled his nose at the movement.

"Yes, Sir?" JARVIS responded with equal softness.

Tony wasn't sure what to say, except, "Make sure this world's Tony knows what he has. Don't let him take it for granted, alright?"

"Noted, Sir," JARVIS responded with the same loyalty as always.

And, just like that, Tony relaxed enough to fall asleep.

***

He dreamed he was at the car show again. He knew he was dreaming, because his eyes couldn't quite focus on what he saw. It was like his eyes were just slightly closed, and he was trying to see through his eyelashes.

Someone was filling one of the gas tanks with honey. Odd, Tony thought, and walked on past. Steve followed a step behind him.

He was at a press conference, in front of a sea of reporters. All of the reporters had blond hair. How odd, Tony thought, spinning and directing his Segway to go offstage and out of view of them.

He was spinning on one of the bar stools in his lab. He was looking up at the ceiling. The fast movement made it appear in a starry sort of pattern, like a kaleidoscope. The ceiling was gold.

Steve appeared in his field of vision, and this one looked more like his Steve - the Steve from his universe - except still not quite. He had those green eyes again, and his jaw line was not so sharp. 

"Well, your dreams make as little sense as usual, but at least finding you wasn't so chaotic this time."

His voice sounded different again.

Tony squinted vaguely at him. "Are you the one doing this to me?" He asked conversationally, and then had to pause to wonder what he meant by that, exactly.

"Don't worry, it won't last forever," Not-Steve said with a vague smile. "But you've still got a few more things to figure out."

"Okay," Tony said agreeably, and shoved his foot against the ground to send his chair spinning in circles again.

***

The spinning stopped suddenly, and he sat up quickly, feeling dizzy at the sudden halt. Then he shook his head, realizing that it had been a dream.

He was sitting in bed.

He was sitting in bed, _naked_.

Knowing that he hadn't gone to bed naked, because he'd been trying to keep things chaste with Steve, he immediately investigated further where he was.

The room was smaller. The bed was a king-size. There was an indentation next to him and clear signs of the blanket being shoved back so that the other occupant could leave the bed. The sheets were dark blue.

Tony drew in a breath indignantly at that - he liked _red_ sheets, thank you very much.

And then he immediately forgot his indignation, because that breath felt pretty large. Large in a way it hadn't been since he'd got the arc reactor.

He looked down at his chest, and -

There was no arc reactor.

He shrieked.


	3. Tattoo Artist Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the kudos the last chapter! It makes me happy when people like my work. :) If anyone has any suggestions for a world they would like to see, feel free to let me know! I'm not sure how many universes I'm going to create at this point before we get to the grand finale, so I'm open to any ideas!  
> Thanks!

It was not a loud shriek. But Tony still felt very justified, because without the arc reactor, _he would die_. And it would be painful. And Tony's brain wasn't connecting the dots quickly that he was in another universe, because survival instinct had kept him for five years worrying about the damn thing taking up so much space in his chest, and now that it wasn't there his brain was panicking. 

A door flew open, and Tony realized distantly that someone had been in the connecting bathroom. Or at least that's what his brain distantly recognized, with the smell of shampoo wafting out. He looked up from where he clutched at his chest and barely restrained the urge to shriek again, because that was definitely Steve, but that was _not Steve_.

"What happened?" Steve demanded, coming closer, completely unconcerned about his naked, soaking wet, _tattoo covered body_ being on full display. Tony was very distracted by the row of studs and hoops decorating the shell of his right ear, but that didn't stop him from noticing the stud in his tongue when he spoke, or the septum ring, or the three eyebrow studs on his left side.

"Nothing," Tony stammered out, unable to draw his eyes away from the intricate compass tattooed over his breast, or the Irish words scrawled around a skinny arm. And - holy shit, this Steve was sporting a _frenum ladder_. Tony felt the urge to start giggling hysterically, because none of this made _sense_ and he didn't know how to handle a Steve Rogers who wasn't self righteous, better than everyone, and beat people occasionally with his fancy Frisbee. Steve Rogerses who were skinny, had something to prove, and covered in piercings and tattoos were a complete unknown. And he could handle the Steve from that other world - he was a nicer, skinnier version of the Steve in his own world. It wasn't that bug of an adjustment. And Tony was never one to judge based on appearance, but a Steve that was willing to ink and pierce himself so much was a Steve who had a lot different life experience and values than the one Tony was familiar with. Tony might even venture to guess that this Steve wasn't born in 1920. 

"Don't give me that shit, Tony," Steve demanded when Tony didn't go on, distracted by his train of thought. And Tony received a new shock to his system, hearing the swear word fall so casually from the blond's lips. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"Really, it's nothing," Tony insisted, affecting embarrassment as his brain adjusted and came back online. "It was just a nightmare. Not a big deal, promise."

Steve narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the brunette, and Tony kept his face carefully schooled in innocence.

"Alright," Steve said slowly. "If you start thinking in Hungarian again though, take off of work and come see me."

_Újra!_

Tony smiled innocently, even as he wondered about the circumstances of this world's Tony learning Hungarian. Tony had picked it up out of survival instinct while in Afghanistan. But this Tony didn't have an arc reactor, so if he'd been in Afghanistan, how had he gotten out?

"Will do," Tony agreed vocally, and after a last look, Steve turned and went back to the bathroom to get dressed.

 _Holy shit, that's me,_ Tony realized when he caught sight of a tattoo on Steve's left butt cheek. It was in pin-up girl style, but the face was clearly Tony's, even in the cartoonish style it was drawn. And the pose was...quite sexual. 

 _What the hell kind of people are this Steve and Tony?_ he wondered to himself.

***

Apparently, this Tony and Steve were a bit more on the naughty side. Because Steve owned a tattoo and piercing parlour, while Tony owned and ran - of all things - a _sex shop_.

He had to pat himself on the back in behalf of this world's Tony though, because the name of the shop was clever. _Stark Naked_. Tony loved puns, and this may have been the best one he'd ever come across.

However, while he may have been a bit more adventurous with sex toys in his playboy days, it had never been at the level that this shop was, and he didn't know what at least half of this stuff was _for_. Some of them, though he would never admit it to anyone else, were a bit terrifying and that he had no desire to ever try.

Unfortunately, he soon discovered that JARVIS did not exist in this world, so he had to content himself with Google ( _ugh_ ) to figure out what some of things there were.

Luckily though, he did have others who worked there and he could discreetly send to deal with customers, as they were more familiar with these things than he was. Also luckily, they were people he was somewhat familiar with in his own world - Thor and Darcy, whom he remembered to be Jane's friend, who was Thor's girlfriend, were there in the morning. They acted very friendly and familiar with him, which felt a bit odd, because they were like the same people but also completely different. For example, this Thor was not from Asgard - he was from Norway. And this Darcy wasn't so flirtatious with everyone she met.

Oh yeah, and she was married to _Loki_. That was a shock he discovered when the green-eyed man came to pick her up at lunch. Tony barely refrained from punching the guy, and only because this Loki had done nothing. This Loki was not the disgruntled adopted son of a Norse god - he was just a snarky bastard who enjoyed picking on Thor in a way that was more like brothers than enemies, as Tony saw in his own world.

The shop took a break for lunch, which apparently meant he went to the tattoo shop across the street to visit with whoever was there.

"Whoever was there" turned out to be Steve, Natasha, and a vaguely familiar-looking brunette. 

The brunette was cleaning his piercing tools when Tony came in, and he gave Tony a friendly nod of greeting.

"He's finishing up with a customer in the back," the man said. 

"Anything exciting today?" Tony found himself asking, genuinely curious about what they did here. In his own world, he'd never gotten a tattoo himself, but in this world he'd spotted a few on his new body and wanted to familiarize himself with the process.

"Not really," the man said with a shrug, wiping his needles with alcohol. Tony wished he knew his name, if only so that he could stop referring to him as 'Piercer' in his head. He noticed an interesting sleeve tattoo covering his left arm - it looked like metal plates, like it was made to make his arm look like it was made of metal. It was kind of like the Iron Man armor, except that it was all just one fluid arm rather than pieces of metal held together by hinges. And there was no repulsor on his palm.

"Stevie's just finishing a back tattoo before he takes his break," the man went on. "It's been a process over several weeks and I think he just wants to be done with it." He began sorting his needles in a little leather case, according to size. "I don't blame him. Not that I'd ever fault a customer for their taste or the choices they make, but"--he pitched his voice lower to be sure only Tony would be able to hear--"personally, I think getting a back tattoo with all of the movie covers for Harry Potter is a bit much."

Tony gaped. "Are you kidding me?" He said in shock.

The man laughed, wrapping an elastic band around the leather case to keep it closed. "Nope. Now, I love Harry Potter as much as the next guy. It's a classic; I grew up on that shit. But a _full back_ tattoo?" He shook his head ruefully, then looked curiously at Tony. "I'm surprised Steve's not been complaining about it to you. He complains enough before every appointment she has."

Tony thought quickly, realizing that this Tony probably _had_ heard all about it, and he saved it with a flippant, "I try and block the bad memories from being saved to long-term storage."

The man shook his head with a little chuckle, just as Natasha appeared from the back room.

"Hello, возлюбленная," the man said, which Tony quickly identified as Russian as the man put his arm around Natasha's shoulders and drew her in for a quick kiss.

"возлюбленный," Natasha returned placidly. "I ordered takeout."

The man pumped his tattooed fist in the air victoriously. "Yes! Boyfriend wins again!"

They were interrupted by a woman appearing from the back, trailed by Steve as he gave her instructions for care and management as the skin healed from the tattooing needles.

Conversation between them was paused as she was given papers with the instructions he told her, as well as payment and forms to sign. During the lull, a completely unfamiliar black man and a girl with a streak of red through her dark hair came through the front door. Piercer and Natasha gave them nods of greeting, causing Tony to wonder if they were other workers here.

As soon as the woman left, Steve turned to the brunette who was apparently in some kind of relationship with Natasha, and picked up the conversation right where it had stopped.

"Just because you're her boyfriend does not mean you automatically win," he emphasized.

"Doesn't it?" The brunette teased with fake snootiness. "When was the last time _you_ won, Stevie?"

"Monday," Steve said blandly. "Surely your memory isn't so bad as to forget something from two days ago?"

"Ouch," the black man whistled. "Alright, before this goes any further, let's stop it right there. When will the food get here?"

"Ten minutes," Natasha answered, pulling away from her boyfriend. "So help me clean off the table in the back room - Steve made a mess of it again."

"That wasn't just me!" Steve protested while the black man turned the 'closed' sign around on the front door. "Or have you forgotten that the past two hours I've spent hunched over, tattooing Harry Fucking Potter and his merry fucking band of followers on Jessica's back?"

"Her name was Rachel," Natasha pointed out, walking toward the back.

"Whatever," Steve muttered as they all followed into the back. "All I know is that if I hear one more fucking time about how the movies made Harry's eyes blue when they were supposed to be green, I will blow a fucking gasket."

"But it's an atrocity!" Tony gasped dramatically. "How could they have ruined the integrity of the movie with that? Everyone knows his eyes should be green!"

"Tony, you say another word about Harry Potter today and I will take a paddle to you," Steve declared without pause, and Tony's brain momentarily short-circuited at the arousing thought of Steve Rogers taking him over his knee. Mm.

No, he scolded himself. Bad Tony.

Luckily, Piercer was quick to reply, effectively covering Tony's mental stumble.

"Are you sure that's something you should be using as a _punishment_?" Piercer questioned thoughtfully. "Because I've always thought a threat should get someone to _stop_ doing something. You're just encouraging him."

Steve simply smirked in the man's direction, saying nothing, causing scattered chuckles around the room. Tony wished that more of them were using each other's names, so he could figure out who they were. He was afraid he might accidentally call one by his mental nickname and give him away.

"I'll get the food," Red said moments later as they heard a knock on the glass door at the front of the parlour.

"Hey," Steve whispered to him while the others talked. "What's wrong? You're being really quiet."

"I'm fine," Tony muttered. "Headache, that's all."

Inexplicably, this caused Steve to become only more concerned.

"Do we need to call Dr. Cho?" He asked. "Is your memory doing okay?"

"Well, I wouldn't really know if that were the case, would I?" Tony pointed out, wondering what was up with this world that his head was such a cause for concern. Dammit, he should've just said he had a stomachache. Maybe that wouldn't have been so alarming, though with his luck this Tony wouldn't have a real stomach.

"Point," Steve acknowledged, clearly trying to keep it light but failing to hide his worry. "Just...remember what I said about thinking in Hungarian?"

"Of course, that was just this morning," Tony responded, a bit confused when he realized that the question wasn't rhetorical or a reminder - Steve was genuinely asking if he remembered that conversation.

"Alright," Steve accepted. "Just let me know if any more symptoms arise or you feel like you need to see Dr. Cho."

"Deal," Tony agreed, as he wondered yet again what the fuck was going on. Being clueless was not a nice feeling. He was a genius; he was supposed to know everything. Or at least more than anyone else in the room. Here, especially without JARVIS' records, he had no idea where to start.

***

Clint and Bruce worked the afternoon shift at Stark Naked. Tony was glad to have familiar faces on his end, because across the street was a completely different ballgame with at least three unknowns who still acted very familiar with _him_.

He had figured out that Red's name was Wanda, and the black man's name was Sam, but he still didn't know Piercer's _actual_ name, and he had no idea how to begin to figure it out. He did plan though, when he was back in his own world, to look them up, because they seemed pretty cool here and he didn't know why they wouldn't exist in his own universe.

For now though, he needed to Google something called "urethral sounds", because the ideas his brain was coming up with were terrifying. 

***

Shit.

Shit shit _shit_.

He'd fucked up. He'd fucked up and now Steve was freaking out and he didn't know how to handle it -

He hadn't known at first what it was he'd done wrong. It was after both shops had closed, and the two of them were back inside their quaint little apartment. They were just talking, and it seemed casual as they picked out a movie to watch. Tony was trying to convince him to put in Star Trek, while Steve was insistent that Star Wars was infinitely superior. It seemed like a ritualistic sort of argument - Tony got the feeling that they argued about this all the time before giving up on either and picking something new entirely.

But, in trying to play along, he'd _massively_ fucked up.

"If we're watching Star Trek tonight, then I get to pierce your ear tomorrow," Steve bargained.

"Fine!" Tony shot back in affronted agreement. "Anything, for you to appreciate Spock!"

But where before it had been exaggerated offense layered over good-natured jabs, now Steve looked alarmed.

"Okay, I don't care what you say, we need to go see Dr. Cho tonight," Steve said firmly, unable to hide the worry in his expression or in his voice.

Tony was completely thrown for a loop at the abrupt change of subject. "What?" He asked dumbly.

"Don't 'what' me, Tony - you know you've been off all day," Steve snapped, eyes scanning Tony for - what, he wasn't sure. "And I know you don't want to worry me, but clearly something is wrong and it needs to be fixed. Stop trying to put off calling for help in the hope that it will get better on its own."

Tony realized he must have said something off, but had no idea what it might have been. He quickly, mentally, ran through the past few minutes in his head to try and figure out where he might have gone wrong.

"Is this about Star Trek?" He hazarded a guess as Steve began digging in between the couch cushions in search of his phone.

Steve had tears in his eyes when he looked up at Tony.

"No, hon," he said, the words seeming at odds with the frustration coloring his voice. "You're not acting like you. I know what it looks like when you start forgetting - you don't have to follow my lead and fucking pretend everything is alright just to try and spare me the damn worry. And I know you _hate_ the thought of putting holes in your body."

Shit.

"It'll be alright," Steve went on, seeming trying to reassure himself as well as Tony as he finally found his phone. "You know Dr. Cho - she's helped you in the past. She can help you now."

_Shit._

Steve had only just turned his phone on to call the doctor when Tony made a snap decision and snatched the phone from Steve's hands.

"What the f..." Steve began, but Tony cut him off.

"Okay, hear me out," Tony pleaded. "I know I'm acting different than your Tony, but I promise nothing is super wrong. I wasn't going to tell you because it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, plus the fact that this world is way different and doesn't have a lot of the same things that mine does so a lot of things will sound less believable, but I promise I'm really not crazy and it will all go back to normal soon."

"What the hell are you talking about," Steve said flatly, glancing at the phone in Tony's hand and clearly wanting to call for some psychiatric help.

"Well, to put it briefly, I'm not from this universe," Tony admitted. "I really couldn't say how I got here because I have no idea, but I was just in another universe that wasn't mine and I was only there for five days before I came here. So you'll get your own Tony back soon - the one who was originally here and who I guess fell in love with you. I'm guessing that the dates tattooed on our ring fingers are your future wedding day, anyway, but I could of course be totally wrong. That's happened a lot the past little bit, but don't tell anyone I said that. My genius should never be in doubt.

"Anyway, the universe that I belong in is filled with people who would have no problem believing this, so I'm sure I sound like a crazy person telling this, but I promise it's all true. In my universe, I have - well, what's basically a battery-powered magnet in my chest to keep me from dying. It also powers my suit, which allows me to fight crime. Wow, I sound like a cheesy comic book superhero, but I promise it's all true!"

"Sure," Steve said pleasantly. "And I'll hear you out, but Tony, do you think I could have my phone back?"

"You're not as sneaky as you think you are," Tony accused, "And I know you don't believe me. I don't exactly have proof that I could offer up, but I can answer any questions you have."

"Alright," Steve agreed, clearly only humoring him. "In your other universe, how do you know me?"

"That's a complicated answer," Tony answered readily. "But the short of it is that you were experimented on during World War Two, and it gave you superhuman abilities that later served to keep you alive for a few decades while you were frozen in the Arctic. When they found you and thawed you, they sent you right back to work." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Come to think of it, that was a real dickish thing for them to do. In your eyes, the War had just been a few weeks before. You were still grieving. You don't put someone with PTSD right back out in the same environment just because you feel like you need them. International security can wait.

"Anyway," Tony forced himself back on track, though he noted that something he'd said seemed to have made Steve pause - maybe he was considering believing him? "Thanks to my aforementioned superhero-like tendencies, the Big Guy shoved us together in a merry band of crime-fighting men and woman playing dress up. At least that's what Bruce calls it, but Bruce only wears pants and not a suit made of gold-titanium alloy. He's just jealous.

"Now, I know you're probably wondering, so no, Rogers and I are not in a relationship in my universe - _at all_. You can imagine my surprise when the first universe I was in featured a Steve and Tony who had been dating for nine months. And then when I woke up here, _naked_ and apparently _engaged_.

"Which isn't to say I have a problem with Steve 1 or with you," Tony hastened to reassure. "You both have been perfectly wonderful replacement Steves. The Steve in my world and I are just not like that."

"You're not making much sense," Steve informed him. "But somehow I want to believe you. But that might just be a desperate hope that my Tony really isn't doing as bad as I thought."

"Well, I know _I'm_ doing perfectly fine," Tony said. 

Suddenly Steve's expression lit up as an idea clearly occurred to him. He grabbed the grocery list and pen sitting on the coffee table and turned it over to the blank side, handing it to Tony. 

"Here's what will convince me," he declared. "Draw an elephant."

Tony had never been more confused in his life, something he hadn't thought possible. How on earth would drawing an elephant be able to convince him that he wasn't his Tony? But he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Alright..." Tony said hesitantly, uncapping the pen with his teeth. "Fair warning: I'm really not much of an artist. That's more Rogers' - or your - area of expertise." Moments later, a fairly decent-looking elephant appeared on the page.

When Steve saw it, a mix of emotions appeared on his face - sadness, shock, amazement, but most of all, relief. 

"Happy?" Tony said dryly.

"Not exactly the word I'd use, but I believe you," Steve breathed, sitting back on the couch. "Shit. And my Tony should be back soon?"

"As far as I can guess," Tony affirmed. "I don't know what triggers it. Really, I don't even know if you'll remember any of this after I leave or if it will be like your Tony was always here."

"And you have no idea what caused it?" Steve repeated thoughtfully. 

"Any time I try and think about it, I just see green eyes," Tony said frustratedly, before he remembered something and smirked. "This time though, the green eyes are what's wrong, not the blue."

It took a second, but when Steve got it he groaned. "Fucking Harry Potter," he muttered. A moment later, a scandalized look crossed his features. 

"Holy shit," he exclaimed. "I threatened to paddle you!"

Tony couldn't help laughing at the look on Steve's face.

"I never took you for the kinky type, Cap," he teased.

"You're the one running a sex shop," Steve muttered, tips of his ears red. 

"And running that place is terrifying!" Tony exclaimed. "I've learned so many new things today that I _never_ needed to know about!" Steve, the fucker, only laughed. "Oh, haha, yeah, laugh it up, you little shit. I have so much fodder to hit up Rogers with once I get back, he's going to be redder than the American flag."

"The flag has white and blue on it, too," Steve pointed out. 

"Those are obviously for his eyes, for how wide they will be with shock and horror," Tony responded without missing a beat.

"Somehow I don't think my alternate self is all that much different from me," Rogers said doubtfully. "You seem about the same as my Tony."

"You could not be more wrong," Tony said amusedly. "If Captain Tight-Ass isn't still a virgin I'll give Clint the armor, and we all know how responsible _he'll_ be with it."

Steve paused, before he said, "There are several things about that statement that I could ask about, so I'll just go with this one - armor?"

"Basically what it sounds like," Tony explained. "I was held captive for three months in an Afghani cave and escaped by building a suit of armor with weapons attached. Made a few upgrades once I was out, and I now use that suit of armor in the superhero business."

"My Tony was kidnapped in Afghanistan, too," Steve said with a frown. He nodded at Tony's drawing. "Because of what happened there, he has problems with his memory. Got some brain damage, and there are some things his brain just can't grasp. Elephants are one of them."

"How did he survive the shrapnel without the arc reactor?" Tony wondered.

"There was another man there," Steve said with a frown. "Another captive. He helped him."

"Yinsen?" Tony confirmed. Steve nodded.

"Sam found you - Tony - in the middle of the desert. I still don't know all of the details, but it took a while before he was allowed out of the hospital. I'm sure he hacked every file there was on him and destroyed it when he was aware enough."

"And the Hungarian..." Tony realized.

"It's what they spoke," Steve confirmed. "Tony learned it so that he could know what torture to expect next, and when."

"Gives you a bit more of a feeling of control," Tony agreed distantly.

"After Afghanistan, Tony got rid of Stane- he's serving four life sentences..."

"What, he didn't just kill him?"

"No, somehow I think the showdown between your world and this one had a few differences," Steve said with an odd look. "But after all that, he handed the company over to Pepper Potts..."

"The world would burn without her," Tony interrupted again, but Steve didn't comment this time. 

"...and he opened the sex shop," Steve finished. "That's how I met him - working across the street. Sam came around with his girlfriend Wanda after a bit and then everyone in the two shops just ended up in this bigger circle of friends. Tony and I have been engaged for two months."

It was quiet for a minute, before Steve said in a clear attempt to change the subject, "So it sounds like you don't care for me in your own world."

"It's not that I DISlike the guy," Tony started, before he realized the lie and felt a sudden urge to explain himself. "It's just that he's so self-righteous and pompous and likes to find everything that's wrong with me, because he's so _perfect_. We can't all be the embodiment of American patriotism with freedom and justice for all. Don't even get me started on the Look of Disappointment. He could interrogate hardened criminals with that look - bottle it up and use it like tear gas."

"Why do you have this image of the other me where I'm just this perfect being who can do no wrong?" Steve asked humorously and with a healthy dose of confusion. 

"Because Captain America is a Perfect Slice of Apple Pie and he knows it," Tony informed him. "The thought of sex, let alone anything outside of the vanilla, heterosexual variety, would put his star-spangled panties in a twist." 

"Captain _America_?" Was apparently the only part of all of that that Steve cared about.

"Yeah, that experimentation back in the forties turned him into a 6'4", 260-pound chunk of solid muscle," Tony said with a wave of his hand. "So they slapped the red, white, and blue on him and sent him off to war without checking that the gamma rays hadn't fried his brain in the process."

"You know superheroes all have their alter egos, right?" Steve questioned. "Wait, is Superman real in your world? Or Batman?"

"As comics, not people," Tony responded. "Where you going with this, short stop?"

Steve shot him a Look very much like his own Steve's Look but made no comment about the nickname.

"It sounds to me like you only know Captain America," Steve said thoughtfully. "But that you haven't really met Steve Rogers."

"Except that you're forgetting the part where I have," Tony shot back.

Steve rolled his eyes. "You call yourself a genius - stop being so dense," he ordered. "Look, when I first met Tony I really met Stark - the persona he puts on in front of the cameras. It took some time before I actually met _Tony_. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Sure," Tony said reluctantly. 

"I'm sorry my alternate self has been such a dick," Steve said, "But I'm pretty sure you can give as good as you get. And if this doesn't ever work out, I expect you to find a way to come back here, find me, take me back to your world, and I can have some fun messing with him."

"Ooh, I like it," Tony agreed with a devilish little smile. "I wonder if the serum will prevent him from getting an aneurysm? We can certainly try our best."

***

They spoke for hours that night, sometimes seriously, and sometimes lighthearted. Frequently - most often - discussion went to the differences between the two worlds.

Shocking was when Tony finally figured out who 'Piercer' was.

After Tony told Steve the fate of the Bucky Barnes in his world, Steve couldn't resist the urge to give his best friend a phone call (it was only 10 pm at that point), and after assuring Bucky that no, he was not drunk, yes, he was home with Tony and no, they hadn't just gotten in a fight, they told each other simply enough but still sincerely how they cared for each other. It made Tony think about his own Steve, and how, seeing the care that these two almost-brothers had with each other, Steve must still be grieving with the loss of his best friend. Tony calculated the timeline quickly in his head and realized that, to Steve, it had only been just under a year since Bucky had died. Suddenly he had a lot more sympathy for the douche. He tried to imagine if Rhodey or Pepper died, and immediately had to stop at the pain of it. That's not something you could easily recover from, super soldier or not.

 Later, as they settled into bed - firmly on their own sides and clothed, thank you very much - Tony asked a question that had been eating at him but he was too - not _scared_ , maybe _nervous_ \- to ask in the forced honesty of light.

"How do you do it?" He questioned. "Keep up a relationship, I mean? How does your Tony do it?"

It was quiet for so long that Tony began to think that Steve wasn't going to answer.

"I think what it comes down to is communication," he finally said. "There's probably always going to be something that my Tony doesn't want to talk about, and I can respect that. Maybe he'll tell me those things one day, and maybe he won't. But with the day-to-day things, we've just both had to learn how to let go of pride, and if there's a problem - no matter how small, you bring it up. If you're going to dwell on it for even a second, bring it up, because otherwise it's going to eat at you. And this doesn't go just for me and Tony, or you and your Steve. Use it in your platonic friendships too, because you never know when the end will come. You don't know when will be the last time you talk to someone. I've been lucky, so far, with Tony. His memories have always come back. But every day I wonder, is this the day they don't? I don't want my last words to him to be something I'd regret."

"Is that why you were so scared this morning when I shrieked?"

Steve blew out a breath. "God, I can't believe that was this morning. Yes, that's part of it. My Tony also gets a lot of nightmares - sometimes when he wakes up he thinks he's still in it."

"I wish there was a way I could help him, and you wouldn't have to worry so much about him," Tony said with a frown.

"I wouldn't change anything about him," Steve said fiercely. "I wish he didn't have to suffer, but everything about Him brought us to where we are now. And I wouldn't change that for anything. He says the same thing."

"Well, you're really lucky, to have what you do," Tony said. 

"I feel lucky," Steve agreed. "Good night, Tony."

"Night," Tony responded. "See you tomorrow."

He didn't see him the next day

***

He was floating, in the clouds. It was hot outside, but the clouds cooled him off. He was on his back, and he moved his arms and kicked his legs like he was swimming. It felt like He was swimming, staring up into the sky.

There was a sparkle in the corner of his vision. He turned his head - it was the sun, but the sun was burning out. But the sky was still bright as noonday. He squinted his eyes at the sun, closed them to escape the brightness.

He was testing out a new gauntlet in his workshop. There was a large jar of honey in the center of the work table, and Tony pointed his repulsor at it and fired. The jar burst, and honey spilled across his work table. He blamed it on Dummy, and sent him to the corner with the dunce cap. You grabbed a new jar to try and collect all the spilled honey.

He was driving - it looked like the freeway on the way to Vegas. The sun was warm, but the wind cooled him off as he drove with the top down. The heat waves shimmered, always just ahead of him.

Suddenly he realized Steve was in the passenger seat.

"This is nice," the blond said, and then Tony realized that it was Not-Steve. Still, it would be rude to just pull over and shove him out of the car.

"I like driving," Tony agreed, and then steered off the freeway to drive among the brush and weeds. His car was okay, because it was just a dream.

"I would've thought you would remember me while awake by now," Not-Steve sighed.

Tony shrugged. "Sorry. I've habitually actively tried to shove dreams from my memory since I was little. My brain doesn't know to remember them anymore."

"Yes, that makes sense," Not-Steve agreed. "I'm sure you've realized you still have more to learn?"

"I'm going to another world now?" Tony rephrased. Not-Steve inclined his/her head in confirmation.

Tony sighed. "Hopefully this one makes more sense..."

Not-Steve laughed.

***

There was hair tickling his face.

Tony huffed out an indignant breath at whoever was in his space while he was sleeping. The hair moved, but the person it belonged to did not. Well, that was just rude, Tony thought.

"You getting angry at your own hair again, Tony?"

Tony's eyes flew open at Rogers' voice so close to his ear, and his vision caught on Steve - a _buff_ one this time, that was more familiar - resting on his elbow, head propped on his hand. 

"You know you can always cut it," Rogers - Steve - went on. But Tony had learned his lesson with agreeing to the piercing in the last world, and he was not going to go through with any major body modifications while in another Tony's body - chopping his hair off included.

He said nothing, only glaring vaguely in what he hoped came across as simply not being a morning person as Steve Fucking Rogers was in every world, apparently.

Apparently he passed, because Steve merely laughed and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Tony's forehead.

"I'll grab first shower so that you can glare at the sun a little longer," he teased, and just like that, he was gone.

After a moment of mourning the sunrise and the apparent consequence of having to rise because of it - really, he'd like to see that in a handbook somewhere, because it was _bullshit_ \- he sat up, resigning himself to figuring out a whole new world for at least the day.

And now he had Aladdin stuck in his head. Great. Thanks, Disney.

As he sat up though, he had to pause. Because his body felt...different. like the weight was distributed differently, and there was - less of it.

 _Oh, my god - have I shrunk?_ he thought in slight panic. _Now **I’ve** got the pre-serum look?_

He lifted the tee shirt he'd slept in - really, who did that? - and then suddenly everything made sense, and yet somehow nothing made sense at all.

Because he had boobs.

He was a _woman_.


	4. Female Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there is discussion of periods. Not too graphic, but you were warned. ;)  
> Also, please read the note at the end!

The shower in the bathroom was running, and Tony heard Steve humming quietly to himself inside. Quietly, so as not to disturb him or alert him that something was wrong, Tony booked it out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and onto the couch in the living room.

There was a large mirror in the living room, which was perfect, because it let Tony see exactly what he had become overnight.

His hair was long, probably about to mid-back, and wavy. Tony was sure that if he grew out his hair in his own world, it would look like this. He had a serious case of bed head, thanks to the long hair, and it looked like the Tony who belonged here had left her ( _her!_ ) makeup on overnight, because there was a bit of black smudged beneath her eyes. His height had translated into his womanly body, and if he had to guess he would say he was 5'2, maybe 5'3".

He - she? What pronoun should he use here? - was wearing nothing but a tee shirt - clearly one of Steve's, and he suddenly realized that he was a bit sore between his legs.

 _Holy shit, I had sex with Steve Rogers last night,_  he thought a bit hysterically.  _Or at least, some version of me did._

He was caught up in the mental image of what that must have been like for several moments, tracing his fingers along a couple of dark hickies at the base of his neck and down his shoulder.  _Meow, Captain._

Then he shook himself, realizing where his thoughts had gone, and he realized that he didn't have the first  _clue_  how to be a woman.

Thoughts travelling a million miles an hour, he thought desperately that women always had purses, right? Did this world's Tony have a purse? And suddenly he realized - this world's Tony wasn't Anthony. Who was she? Did he remember Steve calling him Tony earlier? Or was that in another world?

He went on the hunt for other-Tony's purse, eventually finding it on the counter in the kitchen. Rifling through, he found a wallet, and inside her driver's license.

_Antonia Natasha Stark._

Great, so not Tony, but Toni, with an 'I'. He could work with that.

Hearing the water shut off upstairs, Tony scrambled, realizing he didn't have much time left to acclimatize himself to this world. Shoving the purse back where he found it, he popped a piece of bread in the toaster to give Steve a valid reason why he'd come downstairs dressed - or, undressed - as he was.

While he waited, he noticed a calendar pinned to the refrigerator. That could be useful, he thought, stepping over to peer at it.

Except that he had no fucking clue what the date was.

Smart move, Stark, he thought sarcastically to himself, shaking his head. Looking around, he found one of those digital clocks hanging on the wall that showed the time, the temperature, and -  _yes_  - the date.

Sixteenth, he thought, looking back to the calendar. The day only had the word "Bucky" written on it. The days around it looked busier, with names like "Peter" or "Scott" written in.

Dammit, he thought to himself, because the 17th had a red circle around the day and that probably meant something important. Hopefully he'd be out of here before  _this_  Steve felt the need to call psychiatric help for screwing something up. The only thing written on the next day was "Steve - groceries". It gave no clue to what was going on the next day.

"You want eggs?"

Tony let out a very girlish shriek, consoling himself that it was okay because he  _was_  a girl at the moment, and whirled around, smacking Steve in the chest.

"Don't  _scare_  me like that!" He protested, willing his racing heart to calm down. Steve was laughing, the fucker, holding up his hands in defense. "Fucking sneaking around like you're playing hide-and-seek with a murderer," Tony muttered petulantly.

"I'm sorry," Steve laughed, coming closer to wrap his arms around Tony. "I really didn't mean to startle you. Forgive me?"

He bent his head down, nuzzling along Tony's neck, pressing lingering kisses on the hickies he'd left behind the night before, and hello, that was very distracting and felt really nice. Damn, Steve knew how to distract. What was Tony mad about again?

He came back to himself when Steve began to nibble a path from his ear and down his jawline, and, remembering the role he had to play for the time being, he gently but firmly pushed himself out of Steve's embrace.

"Yes, yes, you're forgiven," Tony said as though he was exasperated, although he really wouldn't mind being in Rogers' arms again. What? The guy was attractive. And this one was a lot nicer than his universe's douchebag Steve. He wouldn't mind jumping into bed with this one.

But also, he didn't want to take advantage of Steve - his Steve or this Steve. It wouldn't feel right and it was a dick move, and it was something he'd regret for the rest of his life. Damn his sense of morals.

But he and Steve #2 had talked extensively on this subject as well - how to deal with affection coming from Steve in whatever future worlds he was in, and what exactly would be taking advantage - specifically from Steve's point of view. And kissing was fine. No kissing would be worse almost and arouse possible suspicion. So Tony could indulge - still a bit guiltily - in whatever future Steves had to offer.

"My toast is probably cold now," Tony grumbled, going toward the toaster, though he wasn't really irritated, and he knew Steve would know that, too. 

Sure enough, he didn't burn the tips of his fingers when he went to pull the browned toast from the appliance. Therefore, it was not warm enough to melt butter on and therefore useless.

"That's alright - I'll eat those ones," Steve offered, opening the refrigerator. "Do you want eggs?"

"Sure," Tony agreed, going to set up the coffeemaker. 

"You go get a shower, I can deal with breakfast," Steve insisted, beginning to crack the eggs in a bowl.

"What? Are you telling me I stink?" Tony demanded, closing the top of the coffeemaker and pressing the button to get it to start dispensing water.

"Well, you do have a bit of that morning sweaty smell," Steve agreed teasingly. "And you probably don't want Bucky to smell the sex on you. It is a bit obvious, just looking at you." He tossed a fond smile over at Tony and his bed head and smudged makeup, causing Tony's brain to stutter a bit.

"Well, when you put it that way," Tony finally grumbled, walking toward the door that led to the stairs back up to the bedroom.

"You know if it were up to me you'd be like this all day," Steve said, a bit of heat in his voice that did funny things to Tony's insides. He startled violently when Steve's hand lightly slapped his butt, only the t-shirt a thin barrier between them. Luckily though, Steve had turned back to the eggs and didn't notice how much the touch had shaken him. Thank goodness for small miracles.

Hurrying into the shower, Tony didn't think so much about his womanly body - although it  _was_ a bit weird to adjust to - as he did about Toni's relationship with Steve. It was ironic, because although the last universe had a Tony who owned a sex shop, it seemed that Steve and Toni were a bit more sexual in this universe. But maybe that was because Steve and Toni had slept together the night before and sex was on the brain. In any case, it was a lot harder for Tony to keep his thoughts straight around this Steve when Steve was practically flaunting his attractiveness in his face.

Sure, he'd always thought Cap was attractive. That fact was obvious. But any attraction could easily wither away any time the prick opened his mouth, so Tony didn't have any  _desire_ for it to ever go anywhere. But the past three Steves? He'd go for something there, easy. The problem was that they were completely unattainable, because some other universe's Tony got them.

Dammit, why did Tony have to be the one to get dick Steve?

It was kinda fun to be able to do girl things though, he reflected as he dried off. His shampoo smelled like roses, and the conditioner made his hair soft and more manageable. He skipped shaving his legs, because they felt fine, even though he knew women did it. How often did they shave, anyway? He wondered at that. He did shave his armpits, because they had just enough stubble to be uncomfortable.

Minutes later, as he tried brushing his hair, he became frustrated with the tangles in it and seriously considered taking a pair of scissors to it. But that would probably really alarm Steve, so he forced himself to calm down and began detangling the knots starting from the bottom and going up. It was a good thing he had the mind of an engineer. You didn't need to be a girl to learn how to brush long hair, he thought triumphantly as he began to make some progress.

"Toni?" Steve knocked lightly on the door, holding a plate of breakfast in one hand, the other plate balanced on his forearm.

"Here," Steve said, setting the plate down on the vanity in front of him. "Your breakfast will get cold."

"Coffee?" Tony asked, reaching for his fork.

"I put on a new pot - you were in the shower for a while," Steve said, and Tony might have loved him a little bit right there, because he  _hated_ cold coffee.

"Can I do your hair today?" Steve asked, running his fingers gently through the wet hair and picking apart a couple of knots Tony hadn't gotten to yet.

Yep, it was settled, Tony decided. This Steve was officially the  _best_ , because Tony hadn't the first clue how to style long hair and Steve was helping him out with everything he was struggling with being a woman for the time being, and he didn't even realize it.

"Have at it, soldier," Tony said, affecting flippancy as he handed Steve the brush.

By the time Tony was finishing eating, Steve was almost finished braiding a single French bread down his back, which thankfully effectively kept the hair out of Tony's face.

"Alright, that's that," Steve said, tying up the end of the braid with a rubber band. "Go get dressed. We should be meeting Bucky in an hour."

"Sure, sure," Tony said, acting like he was grousing as he rose from his chair. He leaned up, giving Steve a quick kiss in thanks that he hoped came off as casual, something they always did, before he headed to the closet to figure out what he was going to wear.

Luckily, there was a flowery sundress hanging front and center - it was obvious that this was something that had been set aside the night before that Toni had planned to wear, so Tony didn't have to guess at whatever type of function they were going to. He did wrinkle his nose a bit at the dress, but when in Rome - or, when a woman for the day - you act the part. Maybe this Toni was used to wearing dresses. 

"Forget something?" Steve's dry voice came behind him as Tony pulled the dress over his head. He turned around to see Steve dangling a white bra from a single finger, eyebrow raised amusedly at him.

Oh. Right. Tony had honestly forgotten about those.

"Just protesting the patriarchy," Tony said brightly, snatching the bra from Steve's hand and affecting confidence at his cover-up. He was pretty sure he'd heard some woman say that phrase once, and it seemed to fit.

Steve only laughed at his comment, watching amusedly and unashamedly as Tony stripped down to his underwear.

"You mind?" Tony teased, hoping that Steve would look away, if only so that he could struggle to figure out how to put on a bra on his own. It felt odd to be mostly naked in front of Steve, but Steve was clearly used to it and Tony didn't want to question this reality.

"Not at all," Steve said placidly, putting his hands behind his back and continuing to watch him.

"You keep looking at me like that and we're  _really_ going to be late," Tony said, stalling for time as he discreetly investigated the bra. He'd only ever  _un_ done these things, and he never saw them while they were on.

"I'm sure Bucky will understand," Steve countered with a little smirk.

"Nope," Tony shut down that line of thinking immediately, seeing that this Steve probably really  _wouldn't_  have a problem being late in favor of sex. "My hair is all done, and it can't be ruined again. You eat your breakfast."

Steve sighed in exaggerated mourning as he turned to his plate, almost definitely cold by now. His moment of distraction gave Tony enough time to inspect the bra and figure out that it would be best to clasp it in the front where he could see it before turning it around and putting his arms through the straps. Once finished, and quite proud of himself for his quick thinking, he slipped the dress back on and pulled on a pair of Converse he found on the floor that looked small enough to fit his new feet.

Remembering the smudged makeup from earlier, he supposed Toni must normally wear makeup. The problem was that Tony hadn't the first  _clue_ how to do any makeup. He went on the hunt - discreetly - for what Toni might wear, and found a tube of mascara in the medicine cabinet. That was good. Mascara was basically brushing your eyelashes with paint. He could do that.

 _I'm having way too much fun with this,_ Tony thought to himself as he finished with his eyelashes and inspected them approvingly in the mirror. But it was fun, he had to admit, and no one ever had to know. He was just embracing being a woman while he was one. So far, it really wasn't actually too bad. 

"Ready?" Steve popped his head in the bathroom.

"Yep," Tony responded, closing the medicine cabinet. "Let's go see Bucky."

***

'Seeing Bucky' actually turned out to be an adventure in itself.

Tony hadn't really gotten to know him in the last universe he'd been in. He'd seen him for about an hour total, the entire day, and it was in a big group with lots of people talking. Tony had been busier marvelling at how much  _different_ Steve #2 was than the Steve in his universe, and hadn't cared to pay any attention to the others - especially ones he didn't recognize from his own world.

This time though, it was just Tony and Steve and Bucky. And Tony actually found himself  _liking_  Bucky, despite trying not to become attached to someone he knew was already dead in his own universe. 

See, Bucky was a charmer. And he was instantly able to make people feel at ease with him, comfortable with teasing right back. And that's exactly what happened when he caught sight of the fading bruises at Tony's neck and waggled his eyebrows at the two of them.

And they didn't actually  _do_ anything. They just met at the mall and walked around talking for a while before they grabbed some pretzels for lunch and ate them as they continued to walk. Steve and Bucky joked and teased like brothers, and Bucky treated Tony - or  _Toni_  - like a little sister. It was an odd feeling. But Tony was positive that if you could do nothing - just spend time with someone - and it's still fun, that's a good person to hang around with. He wished Bucky was still alive in his own world, too - seeing Steve and Bucky like this was fun.

He discovered later that the reason for their outing was that it was actually a small celebration for Bucky's birthday, as he was headed to DC over the weekend and wouldn't be in town on the day of his birthday. As soon as Tony realized this, he set about finding something that he could give the man for his birthday gift. Eventually, he lit upon a "Thing 1" and "Thing 2" set of t-shirts in adult men's sizes, and grabbed them, laughing himself silly at the looks on the two men's faces. He committed the image to memory, being sure to grab a picture on his cell phone - Apple,  _ugh_ \- for Toni's benefit later on.

He also discovered, over the course of the conversation, that Steve worked in construction and Toni worked in auto repair. His estimation of the woman rose - he'd worried that she was a stay-at-home woman/wife/whatever-she-and-Steve-were, and that he would be bored while in this world. But she clearly kept herself busy - that would explain the cords of muscle he could feel under the still feminine-looking arms.

After parting ways with Bucky, it was apparently in Toni's plans to spend some time in the shop for walk-ins, and because Steve had just taken off of work completely that day, he followed Tony in to the office and sat on a stool.

There was one guy to come in in need of a brake replacement and oil change, and Steve stayed back talking to the guy while Tony got to work, grateful that Toni had picked a job that he was familiar with how to do. No Googling sex toys this time, thank you.

And other than that, he and Steve just sat and talked. It was actually pretty nice. Thanks to being with Bucky for long enough, Steve eventually got his brain off of sex, and they were just able to chat about everything and nothing. Tony was also able to surmise that he and Steve were merely dating and living together - not engaged or married, just comfortable with each other. There did seem to be an undercurrent though that, eventually, they would legally seal the deal. They just didn't feel the need to at the moment. And Tony wondered at that, but he didn't ask probing questions to try and figure it out. Not only would it be likely to blow his cover, but it really wasn't any of his business. He wasn't really Toni, and this Steve didn't belong to him.

None of them did.

***

 _Oh my god, why did I think it was so great to be a woman?_ Tony groaned mentally to himself the next morning as he woke up with terrible cramping below his stomach. He'd only heard about this in myth before, but with a sudden flash of clarity to the  _red_ circle around this day on the calendar, he could surmise what it was.

 _Of **all** the times to take on the body of a woman, it has to be at that time of the month??? _Tony agonised to himself, clutching at his midsection and wishing to die. And why the hell did his  _back_ hurt?

Steve woke up, saw him, and immediately knew what was wrong. Without a word, he was out of bed and going down the stairs. Tony had no idea what he was doing until he came back a few minutes later with a warmed heating pad that smelled like popcorn.

"You need some help to the bathroom?" Steve asked sympathetically.

"No, I've got it," Tony groaned, accepting the heating pad and pressing it against the pain, sighing at the very slight relief that it brought. he sat up, slowly and painfully ambling his way to the bathroom and dropping down to sit on the toilet seat for a minute. He heard Steve moving the bedding around in the bedroom, heard the snap of the fitted sheet's elastic, and quickly deduced that he must be changing the sheets. He groaned - he must have bled onto them, because he had no idea Toni's body was going to be going through its mentrual cycle and hadn't prepared. Oh, well. Steve seemed to be taking it in stride. God bless Steve.

He heard Steve leave the bedroom, probably to go down to the laundry room, and while he had the chance, he quickly opened the cabinet below the sink, and - aha. There was a box of tampons.

Good thing tampon boxes had instructions on the side, Tony thought moments later as he finally figured out how to use one. 

Leaving the bathroom, he slowly meandered his way back to the bedroom, where Steve had finished changing the sheets, thankfully. He collapsed onto them with a groan, feeling pathetic and not caring as he curled around the heating pad, seeking relief.

"Here," Steve's voice said above him, and he looked up to see him holding one of those applesauce in pouch things that were for babies, as well as a bottle of Ibuprofen and a water bottle.

"Figured you wouldn't want to sit up, and this means no mess," Steve explained to Tony's Look at the applesauce. Tony sighed in grudging agreement, taking the pouch and bringing it to his lips. He sucked it down quickly, knowing he needed food to take the medicine. Steve handed him a few pills quickly after, along with the water bottle.

Tony kind of thought Steve was going to leave after that, but instead he sat down next to him on the bed and began to play with his hair. And that - actually felt pretty nice.

"How do women go through this every month, this isn't normal," Tony complained into the sheets. Steve laughed quietly a bit but didn't answer, causing Tony to wonder if Toni asked the same question every month. He wouldn't fault her for it if she did - this was terrible.

"You know, you're pretty great," Tony mumbled, feeling his mind drift in the tiredness that always accompanied pain.

Steve laughed a little, scratching Tony's scalp with his fingernails.

"You're pretty great yourself," he responded, humorously but still honestly.

"Really, though," Tony mumbled, wanting to make sure he knew this. "What guy is okay with helping out a girl on her period? Steve Fucking Rogers, that's who. You have the patience of a saint."

Tony couldn't remember what was said after that - he heard Steve's lulling voice and felt the massage on his head, relaxing him further with every passing moment.

And, without realizing it, he drifted off to peaceful sleep.

***

Tony was sitting in front of a warm fireplace. A huge Afghan was wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him warm and giving off a sense of comfort and safety. He heard Jarvis puttering around in the kitchen - the smell of cloves and allspice filled the house. Ana came in, holding a book and cuddling in next to him to read him a story before dinner. She slipped a honey cookie into his hand and held her finger in front of her lips, eyes twinkling as she signalled not to let Jarvis know.

Then Tony was swimming - except he wasn't, really, he was just riding on the back of a whale. It was pretty fun, but he kept getting sprayed with water when the whale came up for air and water sprayed from above the blowhole as he breathed out. It was still fun, though, and he knew that on the back of this giant whale, he would be kept safe.

He was sitting on top of Avengers tower, on his landing pad made specifically for Iron Man's departures and arrivals. His feet swung freely in the open air as he gazed down at New York City going by, fast-paced, same as always, no matter the time of day.

"Mind if I join you?" the voice called, and by now Tony was familiar enough with it that he could instantly identify it as Not-Steve. He shrugged in response, not turning, still gazing at the city that moved along in their tasks like ants. A moment later, Steve sat gracefully next to him, and Tony recognized the posture and grace as being very feminine. It was an odd dichotomy to see on Steve's very  _masculine_ body.

Those green eyes pinned to his again, and Not-Steve tilted their head.

"You're not quite there yet," Not-Steve said calmly. Tony began to wonder what it was, exactly, that this... _creature_...was looking for. Was he ever going to make it back to his own world? For the first time, he began to feel a small prickle of unease and worry.

"Hey, sh, sh, sh," Not-Steve said, placing a delicate finger on Tony's lips. "You were doing so well before, don't give up now." He clucked his tongue sympathetically. "I know this can all be very confusing, Tony Stark. But if I tell you the purpose to all of this, you'll only fight against it just to prove you can; you  _know_  you will. And, has it been so bad so far?" Not-Steve shook their head. "I know it hasn't. Just be patient a bit longer, alright? All of this will work out for your good, in the end."

Tony sighed, feeling himself beginning to drift again into that state of not caring. He realized it was probably something Not-Steve was doing, but not caring enough at the moment to try and figure it out.

"That's right," Not-Steve murmured, green eyes watching him carefully. "Just let yourself drift into the next one."

That didn't sound so bad, actually, Tony thought to himself, and just like that, he drifted back off into that state of nothingness.

***

Tony wasn't so startled when he woke up this time. In his opinion, if he had been able to handle waking up as a  _woman_  and still managed to get through it - and as a bonus, not let his significant other realize that anything was wrong in the process - then he could get through anything.

Thankfully, he woke up in his familiar man's body. He quickly deduced that he yet again had no arc reactor filling the space between his lungs, and wondered at the amount of worlds he was seeing a glimpse of that didn't have the magic or the technology of his own world.

 _Another world without JARVIS,_ Tony sighed to himself mournfully. At least he had been able to use JARVIS in the first world to begin figuring out a way home.

Why wasn't he still trying to figure it out? he wondered. He still wasn't sure how he kept bouncing between the worlds - any time he tried to concentrate on it, it was like something was diverting his train of thought before it got anywhere productive. And yet still he couldn't muster up any worry about it. He just... _knew_ that it was all going to come to an end, eventually. He was glad he didn't have to explain it to anyone, because he wasn't sure he could explain it to himself, and he was the one feeling it.

He did find it odd that in every one of these worlds, all of his interactions in the time that he was there revolved around Steve - and that he and Steve were always in a relationship. Was that a hint at something? Because that wasn't going to work in his own world, he knew that with certainty. Maybe Steve had something to do with why he continued to tour these worlds. It would be nice to know what he was supposed to accomplish on these forays...

The first thing he noticed when he grudgingly left the comforts of the bed was that Steve, as he was getting out of the shower when Tony saw him, was skinny again. This made him no less attractive, however, Tony found himself thinking as his eyes caught on a droplet of water disappearing into the man's happy trail.

Steve, of course, caught the look and snapped the towel scoldingly in Tony's direction.

"Not now, Tony," he said definitively. "We'll be late for work."

"Work, shmerk," Tony muttered petulantly. Steve cracked a smile and went to the closet while Tony went to grab a shower. At least he wasn't dealing with a period anymore.

No, he thought to himself in horror minutes later as he left the shower and found Steve fully dressed in his work uniform. That wouldn't have been so horrific, were it not for the matching uniform he could see laid out for him, saying they worked at the same place.

And, he could see from the logo on the polo and on the hat - that place was a _coffee shop_.

 _Fuck,_ he thought to himself with sudden realization. _It's like a bad fanfiction._


	5. Average Like a Coffee Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you everyone who was willing and able to help me out the past few days! It has literally been a godsend and I appreciate all of you.  
> I hope you like this chapter - it's just where things are starting to pick up and Tony is about to begin to understand some of the ins and outs and whys of what's going on.

Before they got to the shop, Tony hoped to himself that things would pick up, that it wouldn't be too much like a bad fanfiction as he feared.

 _Always a coffee shop trope,_  he thought grouchily to himself, walking through the front door.

And then, just as he'd feared, it turned out to be just about everything he expected it to be.

Because  _everyone_  was there.

When Tony walked in, the first one he saw was Thor, wiping down tables. Natasha was unwrapping the coins and putting them in the cash register at the front, and Clint was stacking the disposable cups against the wall in order of size. Bruce was sitting at one of the tables, sunglasses over his eyes - either to hide the obvious fact that he was sleeping or because he was hungover, Tony wasn't certain. Bucky was leaning against the wall, chatting with Natasha, and that Sam guy was puttering around in the back, too far away for Tony to see clearly what he was doing. Steve and Thor were, of course, the only ones who looked /really/ awake this time of day. Fuckers, Tony thought with a glare.

Tony would really like to do whatever it was he was supposed to do in these worlds, and then get the fuck out of here, because coffee shops were  _not_  his environment.

Sighing, he resigned himself to a menial day of working in the food industry.

***

Tony was ready to kill people, and it was only seven-thirty in the morning. He didn't often feel this way so early, but he'd make an exception for all the Daniels and Jessicas who came in demanding a vanilla latte or whatever other shit was popular.

"Whoa, calm down, Tones," Sam said with a little laugh as Tony smacked one of the machines in frustration when it apparently didn't work fast enough. If he didn't think it would blow his cover, he would've already taken the thing apart and had it fixed so that it could work three times as fast. 

"I think you're more angry than Natasha this morning," Sam went on. "That's rare, for anyone to beat her."

"Natasha is the only  _sane_  one here," Tony grumbled. "Mornings are not made for you to be so fucking chipper. Mornings are of the devil. Or God's way of fucking with us - take your pick. Natasha understands. These customers on their way to a menial job at work understand. The only ones who  _don't_  are all of you!"

"I think you need a cup of coffee yourself," Sam advised. "Take a break - I've got this. The rush is dying down, anyway."

Tony completely disagreed with that last statement, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Grabbing a cup and pouring from the pot of black tar, he said gratefully, "I could  _kiss_  you, Wilson."

"Don't do that," Sam laughed. "That would be a punishment, not a reward."

Tony pouted theatrically. "I don't do it for you?"

Sam shook his head amusedly. "That, and I don't need a jealous Steve after me. Or Pietro after  _you_."

Tony hummed, affecting agreement but saying nothing as he drank from his cup and made his way to the break room.

All he could think was -  _Who the fuck is Pietro?_

***

It had been alright, in the past three universes he'd been in. Fun, almost. Sure, there was a panic that came with each one, but he was able to soldier through it and come out the other end with something learned and his sanity (mostly) intact. It probably also helped that in the last couple, he'd only been in either of them for about a day. The four days in the first universe were bearable, because at least he had JARVIS and the world was  _almost_  familiar.

But this world made no sense, and he was going insane.

Because everything was just so... _mundane_. Average. The days were all the same and Tony wanted to get out. He got into the superhero business with the expectation that he'd never be bored. Here, he was  _bored_.

Sure, it was a bit humorous to see the team plus extra all in a normal-person environment. And they all still had their same personalities; they were just in a different world. Even Steve could be fun to be around, although most of the time he was so exhausted after work - this Steve was not skinny just because of genetics but because of health reasons, so he tired much more easily - and so Tony didn't really have a big idea of what their relationship was like in this world.

It was a bit terrifying, though, the first time Steve had an asthma attack, thanks to a fucker with a cigarette as they walked home from work. Tony had freaked out a bit, worried that Steve was going to die and the Tony that belonged here would hunt him down and kill him for letting it happen on his watch. 

But, he'd been able to calm himself down when his brain went into that familiar crisis mode it did in the middle of a battle, and he had in turn been able to help Steve breathe again, coaching him through and making sure his inhaler was always ready. After the attack, Steve had taken the next day off of work to get some sleep, but still insisted on Tony going in, so Tony couldn't even spend time with Steve for most of the day.

Not that he  _needed_  to spend time with him. Or particularly  _wanted_  to. Right.

And although Tony didn't wish for disaster and destruction, that had been the peak of excitement in the  _six days_  he'd been here. He didn't know what to do with himself, but he was ready to tear his own hair out.

But...it was nice to spend some time with Steve, the day he stayed home from work to sleep. After Tony got home, the two of them made dinner and watched a movie, just chatting. And even though the movie was terrible and Tony had stirred the pasta too much and made it starchy, it was still...nice. A bit boring, but he didn't mind so much when it meant that Steve was alright now.

***

He was jogging, but he wasn't out of breath. The New York City sidewalks were crowded as usual, but amazingly, people parted like the Red Sea to let him through, without giving him a passing glance. He breathed in the crisp Fall air; it felt nice. He passed a specialty honey shop, and craved bread.

He was watching TV in the living room, not really sure what he was watching but caring more for the bowl of popcorn in his lap and the warmth pressed up against his side. A hand reached into the bowl, and he lightly slapped it away.

"Mine," he said possessively. When the hand reached in again, he let it happen, laughing when the hand came up victorious.

He sat on the roof of the Tower, watching the clouds above him and trying to guess the shapes of what they made. The breeze was warm, comforting. The honking cars of the street below were a background noise that faded in the distance.

He felt, more than heard, when the new presence appeared.

"You know more," Not-Steve said, standing next to him.

And suddenly, angrily, Tony was able to push through the fog of vagueness and confusion in his mind.

Rising quickly to his feet, he looked into the face so much like Steve's and yet so  _different_. "Yeah, I don't know what the fuck the plan is here, but what the fuck was  _that_?" He demanded.

Not-Steve's expression turned into a frown of disappointment and a bit of confusion.

"Tony Stark, you were doing so well," he/she said, almost mournfully. Probably at the fact that Tony wasn't just mindlessly going along with whatever this person/thing wanted. "You still have more to learn."

"Yeah, I don't know what the hell I'm doing here, because you won't fucking  _tell me_!" Tony exclaimed frustratedly. "And I know you're not Steve - stop pretending to be him, because you're failing at all of it! He doesn't even have green eyes - that's such a basic, well-known fact about him that I don't know how you could've fucked it up so badly!"

Not-Steve looked a bit amused. "My appearance is unimportant," he or she said. "You still have more to learn."

"Stop  _telling_ me that!" Tony exclaimed. "I don't even know what the fuck I  _have_ learned so far! The past six days, at the very least, have been utterly useless and a  _complete_ waste of my time!"

"Not everything must be an adventure, Tony Stark," Not-Steve said, looking distressed for the first time. "And love is not always in the big, momentous occurrences. It is in the mundane, day-to-day activities as well."

"Yeah, I don't know what you're on, but to even imply - let alone  _state_ \- that Steve Rogers and I have some kind of blossoming relationship is ridiculous, not to mention fucked up," Tony said harshly. "I don't need or  _want_ a relationship with Captain Stick-Up-the-Ass; just let me go back home!"

Not-Steve frowned, looking a bit angry. "I would not be here if there was not something there," probably-she said succinctly. "I do nothing without a reason."

"Yeah, you failed in that, sorry to tell you," Tony bit out, not actually apologetic in the least. "I don't know what exactly your purpose is or what your powers are or even your name, but I do know that you've fucked up with me, and I really don't appreciate it."

Not-Steve's frown deepened into a scowl, and the visage around him shimmered, allowing Tony to catch a brief glimpse of what was defnitely a woman's angry face underneath. A moment later, Not-Steve's appearance snapped back like an elastic band.

"Fine, you want more  _adventure,_ " the woman spat, the anger looking odd on Steve's face. It wasn't quite the anger that Rogers had when they were arguing. "But  _that_  will be on my terms, too. I wasn't planning to take you to this world, but maybe you can learn something here."

"What the fuck...?" Tony started irritably, but she cut him off swiftly.

" _No_!" she ordered, pointing her finger at him. " _You_ asked for this, just remember that!"

Tony began to feel an odd sensation behind his eyes, like a fog was passing around him. It felt kind of like those moments before you drifted off to sleep, and suddenly he knew that he was about to wake up in this new world she was sending him to.

"A word of advice?" she said sweetly, though her anger was still apparent underneath. "Don't act rashly. Follow Steve Rogers' lead."

"What the fuck do you think I've  _been_ doing?" Tony thought he said, but maybe he only thought it, because darkness was swiftly pulling him under. The last thing he saw were those green eyes, focused on him.

A moment later, he woke up.

***

He had a headache.

That was the first thing he noticed upon waking. It made him wonder if the other Tony - the one who  _belonged_  in this universe - had gone to bed drunk. That would be just  _brilliant_ , but he had the vague sense that someone else would love that. He wasn't sure exactly who - trying to remember only brought up a mental image of green eyes.

 _Follow Steve Rogers' lead._  the thought came to him randomly.

 _Well, duh,_  he thought. And where  _was_  Steve Rogers? 

The room was dark, almost pitch black. He heard snoring, and there was a streetlight right outside the window that provided some illumination. Somehow though, Tony still felt like he was seeing more detail in the darkness than he should have normally with the amount of light given. He wondered if this Tony simply had better vision than he did.

However, it allowed Tony to see that this time, for once, it was not just he and Steve in the room. There were four other men there too, sleeping on the floor or on chairs or the one on the bed. Tony realized that his counterpart must have been sleeping sitting up, leaning against the wall. He stretched his legs a bit to wake up the muscles, even though they didn't feel tired, but just out of habit upon waking.

The movement alerted the figure in the corner to his state of wakefulness, and Tony sensed with a prickle to the back of his neck that he was being watched by the fifth man. He looked up, met blue eyes, and realized that it was Steve. 

Except.

He didn't look quite as Tony had remembered him. His hair was a bit longer, his eyes looked a bit older - and yet somehow blanker. Steve - Rogers -  _none_ of them - had ever been able to attain the blankness of emotion in their eyes as this universe's Steve was able to.

So caught up he was in the difference of Steve's eyes that it wasn't several moments later of staring that Tony realized that something was  _very_ different here than any other world he'd known. Because, as Tony's eyes quickly took in the rest of what Steve looked like, he discovered three things:

1.) Steve, although it was apparently time to sleep, was dressed in full tactical gear.

2.) Where normally, Steve had two fully human, flesh and blood, perfectly muscled arms, this Steve had a robotic-looking metal arm to replace his left one. And it didn't look like a normal prosthetic; it was much too advanced.

3.) Looking down at himself, he was also dressed in tactical gear.

And his right arm was the same as Steve's left.

 _Shit,_ Tony thought, mind whirling as he struggled to take it all in.  _What the hell kind of world is this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha perfect ending...I'm an evil person who loves writing cliffhangers and doesn't quite manage it most of the time. Next chapter will be even worse, lol.  
> I love your feedback!


	6. Winter Captain and Winter Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, life is kicking me in the butt and I've been working on this chapter for too long. This one is kind of broken up, because...well, you'll see.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Rogers was staring at him.

For some reason, instinct told Tony to do exactly as Rogers did until he could learn more information about this world. And his gut had yet to fail him, so, despite his discomfort, he stared back.

Rogers didn't seem bothered by the staring, which was unfortunate, because it meant Tony would continue to play this game until the other man got bored and his mind moved to some other riveting activity.

However, it did afford Tony the opportunity to examine the little details about Rogers without the man noticing. Or maybe he did, and he did not care.

In any case, Tony was trapped in thoughts and bafflement about what the  _hell_ was going on here. Why did this Steve have a metal arm? And why did  _Tony_? The red star on each man's shoulder had to mean something, Tony was sure, if only he could figure out  _what_. He wondered also who the other four men were. Somehow, they felt like hostiles. Tony couldn't be sure of this of course, but again - gut feeling and all that.

Tony didn't know how long they sat there, staring. It must have been hours. Eventually Steve had come to some conclusion and closed his eyes. Far be it from not staring anymore, it still felt like the man was watching him intently - with his ears now though rather than with his eyes.

And the thing was, Tony had never been patient. It was a personality trait of his - to get what he wanted when he wanted it, if not sooner. If he had to wait, it wasn't worth it. 

But this time was different. Because Tony's gut told him that he needed to watch and observe here - to gather intel and information so that he could use it in the future. He wondered if this Tony's brain somehow worked with his own, gave him different instincts or whatnot. Because he knew that laying low really wasn't his style.

 _Just channel Natasha,_ Tony chanted to himself, closing his eyes.  _Follow along, find an escape route, and get out._

Yeah. Tony scoffed mentally to himself. That would be easy.

***

It wasn't easy.

Tony stared in horror at Steve, at the apartment building across the roof from them, and back to Steve.

It wasn't easy, because he'd never seen Steve like this.

Oh, he was no idiot. When he woke up come morning again and went through the conversation - in  _Russian_ , of all things, so it was a good thing Tony had learned it - with the other four men with him, he had been able to pick up a little bit of what was going on.

Emphasis on a  _little bit_.

They were on a mission. Tony and Steve - or, Soldier and Captain, respectively - were a tag team. The four men worked with them - though it felt a bit more like the four men were their guard dogs. 

They were not friendly with Steve and Tony, that was for sure. They treated them like  _they_ were dogs, only to do their bidding, It made Tony bristle inside, but Steve was passive and emotionless, so Tony swallowed it down and forced himself to endure it. For the long game.

They had driven in a van for a couple of hours - Tony had yet to hear Rogers' voice, outside of a  _'Da'_ before they'd headed out. The drive was made with both Tony and Steve being silent, the other four men making the occasional comment to each other.

They'd been dropped off in a seemingly random place in the middle of the woods, and then walked for maybe three or four hours before they'd come to the roof they were currently on. Across the street was the apartment building where their target lay. Snow drifted from the sky, blanketing the ground with snow and dusting Tony's cheeks and eyelashes with the stuff. Strangely though, his body seemed largely unaffected by the chill, like it had its own personal furnace that couldn't be touched by the elements. That was all Tony could think of to explain why he wasn't wearing any winter clothing to speak of and was still perfectly comfortable, like it was sixty degrees and sunny.

Tony was really just distracting himself with these small things, however. The problem his mind was stuck on was what to do in this situation. Because Steve was about to kill someone in cold blood. And that wasn't like Steve at  _all_. Except that Tony was pretty sure the guy wasn't doing this by his own choice - he was a bit too robotic for that. Tony had to imagine that in any world, whether Steve was evil or not, he would be just as expressive and feel just as much. That was just  _Steve_.

"You are not him," Steve's quiet voice broke into Tony's thoughts, and he startled at its suddenness, having to pause a moment to translate the Russian into English in his head before he could respond.

"What?" Tony finally managed, staring at Steve's profile as the man gazed at the designated apartment window, not knowing what Steve meant.

"You are different," Rogers said, like that helped any more.

"Your heart rate has increased," Rogers said conversationally, though there was an undercurrent of threat in his words that admittedly did make Tony a little nervous. He didn't know what to expect from this version of Steve.

"You are scared," Steve continued, before he turned to pin Tony with his stare. "My Soldier does not get scared."

Well, it looked like the cat was out of the bag with this one, Tony surmised with a mental wince, though he wondered how Steve had figured it out.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Tony finally decided on saying. That was true, at least. Tony couldn't hurt  _any_ version of Steve, evil-possibly-mind-controlled-killer or not.

"I know," Rogers said matter-of-factly. "Your reaction times are too slow."

Tony paused, wondering what Soldier-Tony's normal reaction time was, because Tony thought he was pretty fast, if he did say so himself. Not  _Steve_ fast, because he wasn't a super soldier, and not Natasha or Clint fast, because he wasn't a super  _spy_ , but easily the fourth fastest on the team. And, with that comment, Rogers was not making a statement of trust in Tony's intentions - he simply knew that he was faster and Tony would be unable to hurt him, were he to try. That was - not unexpected.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Tony focused back on the present, where Steve wasn't saying anything anymore.

"So, what're you going to do about it?" Tony said, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Because in case you're wondering, I didn't mean to come here. I'll be gone in a few days, I think."

"You are not the Soldier," Rogers stated, looking back at the apartment. "You require more protection."

"I - what?" Tony didn't understand. 

"You are untrained," Rogers elaborated, fingers tightening against the handle of his gun almost imperceptibly. Stress reaction, Tony thought, which was odd, because the man appeared as emotionless as he always had since Tony had awakened in this world.

"Hydra does not allow for imperfection," Steve continued flatly. "You are imperfect. The Soldier is not. The Soldier does not need recalibration." The way he said it implied that he thought Tony did, but as he was in the Soldier's body that wouldn't be feasible.

Tony could have said a lot of things right then - about Hydra being there apparently, about the fact that he definitely _was_ perfect (or at least didn't let people know when he wasn't), or even wondering about what Steve meant by "recalibration", because that sounded particularly ominous and Tony didn't like it - but instead he decided to go with, "How do I act like the Soldier?"

"Follow my lead," Rogers said simply, eyes focusing suddenly with intent across the street. Tony had the sudden realization what was about to happen, and felt a wave of panic slam into him, because this was Steve how could Steve do this what could Tony even do to stop him -

And then, before Tony could come to any sort of conclusion on the matter, the trigger was pulled, and the gun fired.

***

Rogers clearly didn't know what to make of Tony. It seemed he trusted the Soldier and even had some affection for him. But he knew that Tony was not the Soldier (somehow) but saw him as something like an ally. Or at least not an enemy. Rogers neglected to harm him or reveal him, but he didn't trust him. It was almost like he was simply watching over the Soldier's body until the Soldier's mindset would come back.

Tony wasn't sure quite what to make of it. In everything else - and even in some extent to this - the man was emotionless and impersonal. But there was some kind of loyalty lurking in there around Cap's brain that was inexplicable but kept his focus on Tony - or, on the Soldier.

After they had finished the mission and packed up, they had four hours to get back to the drop point, which gave them an extra three or four hours before they had to make their way back. Apparently the schedule of the man they'd been sent to kill hadn't been solid and they'd been given more leeway time.

"So, what do we do with all the extra time on our hands?" Tony questioned, trying to hide his nervousness as his mind replayed Steve killing the guy in cold blood just minutes before. He was pretty sure the man caught onto it, anyway. He was more perceptive than any other Steve that Tony had known.

A slight frown tugged at the corners of Rogers' mouth, and his gaze passed over Tony's form. The whirring of the blond's metal arm - man, Tony would never get used to that - increased slightly in his agitation. He didn't say anything in response to Tony's question.

"Well, what do you normally do in these situations?" Tony prodded, looking for something, for some clue as to what to do. He just wanted to go back to his own world - to something familiar and not so murderous.

Rogers' brow creased. "I do not remember," he muttered. "Asset is malfunctioning."

Tony wasn't sure what to make of the last statement - or the first one, really. How could the man just forget something that seemed so basic? It was like forgetting that milk came from cows and eggs came from chickens.

"Alright," Tony said after a pause. His own metal arm whirred in agitation and thought as he figured out how to navigate this conversation. The weight of it ached a bit, and he tried not to think about the fact that it was literally fused with his body - attached to his spine, if he had to guess. If he thought about all of the mechanics of it, he was sure to have a panic attack. Better to just think of it as some kind of sleeve that made him stronger. 

"So," Tony said, focusing back on the present. "What do you  _want_  to do, then?"

"The Asset does not want," Rogers said tonelessly. 

Tony raised an eyebrow at that. "I suppose you're the Asset, then?" Rogers simply blinked, though it seemed to be in confirmation.

Well, fuck. Getting anything out of this guy was like pulling teeth, and Tony didn't have any idea what the fuck he was supposed to do with all that.

"Have you ever heard of Captain America?" Tony switched tactics.

"Unknown," Rogers replied tonelessly, no twitch at all of recognition in his eyes.

"Have you heard of Steve Rogers?" Tony continued to press.

"Unknown," came the answer, because of course it couldn't be that easy.

"What about James Barnes? Or Bucky?"

At that, something flickered in the blond's eyes - something like confusion - and Tony was certain that something had shifted there. But then, a moment later, the eyes shuttered again into blankness and he replied again, "Unknown."

Tony sighed. How was he supposed to get  _anywhere_ with this guy?

"Okay," Tony said, cogs turning in his head. "Who is the Soldier?"

"Winter Soldier," Rogers said automatically. "Asset to Hydra, formerly of the KGB, partnered to Winter Captain to work for the good of the world. Previous designation unknown."

That seemed like a trained response, so Tony asked, "Alright, and what is the Soldier to  _you_?" At his confusion, he clarified, "What does he mean to you?"

"Soldier is to be protected," Rogers said, not seeming to completely understand. "Soldier is the Captain's partner."

Well, that could mean many things, Tony reflected, but it seemed reasonable to assume that the Soldier and the Captain were an item, when their minds were with it enough. Still, just to be sure...

"Do you and the Soldier ever kiss?" he queried.

Something flashed in the Captain's eyes - and Tony thought it might have been protectiveness. But there was no tension or change in Rogers' voice when he said, "Affection is forbidden."

Tony noticed how that really wasn't an answer, but really it answered his question. The Captain and the Soldier kissed, in secret, whenever they could. But when the ones who had him found out, it must have meant punishment, based on this response to his question.

Well, he saw no reason to tell Hydra _anything_ , let alone this nugget of information.

“The Soldier was once Tony Stark,” Tony blurted on a whim, wondering how Rogers would react.

And it was a bit anticlimactic – the Captain simply blinked, gazing at him blankly.

“You’re Steve Rogers,” Tony hazarded, deciding to throw caution to the wind. “You were once Captain America. I don’t know what made you who you are now, but it’s not right. I – or, the Soldier – am Tony Stark. You worked with my dad, Howard, back in World War Two. You got a super soldier serum – it’s what makes you strong now.”

“I am the Asset,” Rogers said tonelessly, but Tony thought he might have detected desperation in the man’s eyes, as he struggled to know what to believe. Or something.

Tony nodded. “Maybe now, yeah. Because that’s what Hydra _made_ you. But I can guarantee you that that’s not _all_ you are. It’s not who you’re _supposed_ to be.”

The expression on Steve’s face darkened a bit. “The Asset is whatever Hydra needs the Asset to be.”

“But you’re not _only_ the Asset,” Tony explained, somewhat desperately. “You’re Steve – you’re good, and righteous, and a pain in the ass but someone I know I can count on when I need it. And we need to get you out of here – away from Hydra, to allies. And I may not have the best relationship with SHIELD, but if we go to them…”

“SHIELD is Hydra,” Rogers interrupted. “’Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place.’”

“That…” Tony struggled, before the metaphorical light bulb flicked on. “…Makes a lot of sense, and something I will check into once I get back to my own dimension. Point is, right now I know of at least a few people we can contact for help that I know for sure aren’t Hydra – Clint and Agent and Natashalie…we just need to get you out of here.”

“Soldier is malfunctioning,” the Captain said, warning in his voice.

“No, Soldier is in his right mind!” Tony snapped, growing impatient. “Soldier wants to make sure he _and_ his Captain are in safe hands and not going through whatever torture had to have _caused_ this state of mind.” He blinked. _Shit, I just said that all in third person. I really am going crazy._

“Extraction imminent,” Rogers said like he hadn’t heard anything Tony had said. But, upon checking the time on the large clock in the middle of the town, Tony knew that Rogers was deflecting the conversation. They didn’t have to start making the two hour trek back to the drop point for another hour and a half.

“Look, I’m not trying to trick you or anything,” Tony said, sighing and attempting to keep his frustration at bay. “You’re my _friend_ , Steve. And I can help you get to safety – not with Hydra or anyone else dictating your actions or looking over your shoulder. You can have _friends_.”

“Soldier speaks of betraying Hydra,” Rogers said in a warning voice, gaze sharp and cutting.

“Well, that would imply loyalty to Hydra in the first place,” Tony retorted. “Look, we have a few hours before they’ll even notice we’re gone. I know my way around security at the airport, and I know how we can get to allies. You just have to trust me.”

“Soldier is functional,” Rogers said, eyes dark, “But you require recalibration.”

Tony felt like screaming. It was like talking to a wall.

“Steve, look at yourself!” he exclaimed, waving his arm at the blond. “Do you look like a person? Because you do to me. And _people_ don’t need recalibration – that’s what you do with a broken _machine_. Hydra has pulled your brain apart like taffy so that you don’t even remember who you are anymore. Recalibration? That’s what they do to make you _forget_. Please, Captain, for the _love of God_ , just trust me on this and leave them behind!”

“You will fail,” the Captain said, and for the first time, Tony detected a hint of defeat in his voice, below the parroted loyalty to Hydra. “The Soldier and the Captain – always fail.”

Tony felt like he’d been punched in the stomach – winded and struggling for words. Because by this admission, he discovered that the two of them _had_ tried to escape before. And they’d failed. He could only imagine what kind of tortures that Hydra had put them through in punishment as well as – he shuddered – _recalibration_.

“Well, now you have me,” he finally said. “And you’re not going to have me for long. Some time, I’ll go to sleep, and it won’t be _me_ who will wake up again; it will be the Soldier. And he’s not going to know what I do. He won’t know who to go to or how to escape. And you’ll probably fail again. So let me help you, while I’m here. _Please_.”

Tony waited with baited breath, while Steve assessed him with eyes full of fear and trepidation. A moment later, the eyes narrowed with determination, and he nodded once.

“Acceptable,” he said. “What do we need to do?”

***

Tony had thought they would make it. He truly did. But somehow, some way, he had _massively_ fucked up.

They had first gone to the public library – broken in, because it was closed at night, but Tony needed use of the computer. He had first made a few quick Google searches, just to see if there was anything he needed to be surprised by in their escape.

Just as he had suspected, Bucky Barnes had become Captain America after Steve Rogers had fallen off a train in the Swiss mountainside. It would have been a lot harder to get what he needed done if he hadn’t known about Cap’s best friend and been able to deduce the state of the world from that. After all, if Hydra had won the war decades before, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers would not have been assassins for them.

What _was_ odd was seeing that Captain America had yet to be found in the ice – but then, upon checking the date, he realized that it was only 2007 – still another three and a half years before his own Cap had been found. Well, that would have to be remedied, he decided.

Out of curiosity, he searched himself, and was surprised to see that in this universe, he had been Howard’s _brother_ , not his son. The world was apparently under the impression that Tony was just Howard’s kid brother, without any other family, and had therefore tagged along with Howard during the war but didn’t really _do_ anything but hold things while Howard did all the work. But, knowing his father, Tony could read between the lines and see in the few pictures from that time that he had actually been very instrumental in Project Rebirth. He’d even gone along on some of Captain America’s missions, to help with upkeep of some of their supplies – i.e., fixing their tech in the field. He’d disappeared after a Hydra raid about two weeks before the Captain had fallen off the train. Tony could only guess at what had happened to bring him to where he was now.

However, it seemed Howard had named his son after him – Edward Anthony Stark; genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.  It was like seeing a slightly off version of himself.

He shoved that aside though, in favor of seeking out – of all people – Clint Barton. His first instinct would have been to look for Rhodey, or even Pepper, but he could admit that most of the reason he got away with what he did with them was because of the rapport he’d built with them over years and decades. Seeking them out now, a stranger in their eyes, they would instinctively turn to law enforcement, and he couldn’t afford that quite yet. He might have gone to Romanoff, but he was a bit less certain with her than he was Barton. After all, Clint was the one who had recruited the Black Widow while he had been under direct orders to kill her. He was definitely more predisposed to believing in assassins having a good side.

It took a lot longer without Jarvis’ help, but he managed to find out where Barton was at that moment. He was in his SHIELD barracks, sleeping alone in his room. A few more clicks of the keys, and he got the cell phone sitting on the bedside table to let out a single chime like a text was coming in, accompanied by the flashlight blinking on and off (he remembered Clint’s hearing problems, and had no reason not to suspect that they existed in this universe, too).

He watched from the computer’s webcam as Clint jerked in bed, waking immediately and grabbing the SHIELD-issued phone. He squinted at it, bewildered by the message appearing from the blocked number.

_I need your help. Don’t mention this to anyone. I promise I don’t mean you or SHIELD any harm._

Clint barely had time to read the message before Tony typed out another one with the rapidity of a snake.

_My name is Tony. My friend’s name is Steve. I need amnesty and to escape. I can’t do it on my own._

“What the fuck,” Clint muttered, sounding a mixture of incredulous, curious, wary, and resigned. He rubbed his eyes with one hand while he opened the phone to send a text back. Tony hurried to stop him and explain.

_Don’t bother texting back. I’m working from a computer – this isn’t a real number. Just talk out loud – I can hear you, and I’ve blocked anyone from hearing or hacking in._

Clint looked much more alarmed now, and he looked around the room cautiously, clearly wondering how on earth this stranger could have gotten inside.

“You some kinda genius to hack in like that?” he called out quietly, testing the waters.

 _Yes. Not important right now._ Tony typed back in response, getting antsy with how much time had passed. _We need to be extracted as soon as possible. We’re hiding from the ones who use us at the moment. They’ll know soon that we’ve deserted._

“The hell are you running from?” Clint said aloud, taking the whole situation quickly in stride, making him Tony’s new favorite. While he began typing, he saw out the corner of his eye as Clint swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, staring down at his phone to see the response immediately. “And how do you know I’ll help you?”

_You helped Natasha. You can see the good in people underneath what they’ve done at others’ behest._

Abruptly, Clint’s eyes went wide and he sat up straight, looking much more alarmed than he had a moment before.

“How the hell do you know about Natasha?” he demanded, voice a lot more harsh than it had been a moment before. Beside him, Steve shifted uneasily, a heretofore silent presence as he went along with it, but now uncomfortable – probably because he didn’t expect the animosity from someone Tony had claimed would be 100% onboard with helping them.

 _Not important._ Tony hasted to reply. _I’m not going to blow her cover or anything. Good guys, promise. Look, we need your help, STAT. We’ve been out of commission for a while so not totally sure about current affairs or technology…how soon can you get to Russia?_

“Are you one of Natasha’s former associates?” Clint demanded, and Tony wanted to bang his head on the desk in front of him in frustration. They didn’t have _time_ for this! He heard a noise outside and jumped, startled, before cursing himself and focusing his attention back on the computer, typing as Clint continued to demand more answers. “Is that why you’re in Russia? Who are you running from?”

 _We can answer your questions IN PERSON._ Tony replied pointedly. _I don’t trust the connection is secure._

_But I know you can’t trust everyone in SHIELD. I don’t even know about the pirate._

_But I know we can trust you, so we need you and ONLY you to grab a fucking helicarrier and come to Russia._

_We have to leave where we are really soon, so we’ll get in contact with you again once you’ve landed in Russia._

_We’ll find a way._

_Please just help us._

His texts were getting shorter and shorter as the urgency of the situation escalated as time passed. Hydra would be expecting them back within the next half hour – they needed to have put enough distance between here and there so they could hide out for a bit before rescue.

It turned out that the urgency was all for naught, however.

Abruptly, the Captain beside him went absolutely still. Tony hadn’t even noticed that the Captain had been moving, tilting his head and looking around, until he stopped doing it. Rogers’ metal arm whirred slightly, the plates on top rippling with the sudden stress of its owner.

“They found us,” Rogers said tonelessly.

Tony’s panic ratcheted up at the calm certainty – the _resignation_ – in Steve’s voice, in his posture. Rogers seemed under the impression that there was no escaping now that they had been found – Tony wasn’t sure if it was because of past experience in the assassins’ escape attempts or because Rogers had been so conditioned not to fight back that he would obediently follow his captors now that they were there. In any case, it was chilling, that certainty, and Tony began to plan for the worst, even as he made plans for the best.

“Who _are_ you?” Clint asked back on the screen, but Tony was already typing, even as he heard the front door open with a loud crack downstairs. Clearly someone else had the same idea to just break in – but they were a lot more obvious than Steve and Tony had been with busting a back window in the basement.

_Caught._

_Don’t know where we are._

_Don’t trust anyone – they’re part of SHIELD._

_We’ll try and contact again asap._

_Delete these messages for your safety._

“No…!” Clint exclaimed, jumping to his feet, but Tony was already closing out, erasing everything with a few taps of his keys and shutting off the computer.

“We need to get out,” Tony said lowly to Steve, who was standing rigid as a statue while staring in the direction of the front door. “We can still escape.”

“We cannot,” Steve said, voice as toneless as ever, but Tony was certain he could still hear the defeat underneath.

“Captain!” a man called from the floor below, sounding angry. “Soldier! We have found you attempting escape again! The punishment for this will be severe.”

“We _can_ ,” Tony begged, tugging on Steve’s arm with his own. “Come on, we can fight our way out of here. We can kick _all_ their asses – there are only _four_ of them!”

“You thought we wouldn’t notice your computer use?” the man from before said rhetorically, his voice coming closer. “We have so much tech installed into those arms…convenient for finding your Assets when they decide to start thinking for themselves.”

“I will hold them off,” Steve decided, his jaw set in a firm line. “You run. Make sure my Soldier comes back when you leave.”

“Like _hell_ am I leaving you alone with _Hydra_ ,” Tony snarled, clenching his fists.

“Come out, little Soldiers,” the Hydra agent wheedled, his voice coming closer. “You know we will find you eventually…”

“Come on, Rogers,” Tony demanded, “ _Fight_ them! This doesn’t have to be your life!”

“Very well, then,” the Hydra agent sighed. “If force is what you wish…”

Steve’s arm whirred with the mechanics underneath as he clenched his fist, eyes darkening. Tony’s matched it, preparing for a fight…

But they never even got the chance to see the other men closing in on them.

“Longing.”

Steve’s arm screeched as the fist tightened too much, a stress response. Tony hardly noticed – his brain was suddenly feeling foggy, vague.

“Rusted.”

The fist loosened. Tony shook his head, trying to take a step back, a step away from the Hydra agents. His feet felt frozen. He needed – he needed to run. He needed to escape.

“Furnace.”

The fist relaxed completely, body slackening. But Tony could see the anger still in Rogers’ eyes – he was still fighting what was happening, as Tony was trying to do.

“Daybreak.”

Fucking trigger words – why did there have to be trigger words? Tony felt like he was being shoved aside, but he was still just standing there, same as before.

“Seventeen.”

He felt weak, shaky, like he’d gone days without eating. He blinked, staring at Rogers’ boots. There was a scuff on the right toe. Cap would want to get rid of that.

“Benign.”

He needed – he needed to get out. He needed – what did he need?

“Nine.”

Hydra. …no, that was wrong. What was he doing here?

“Homecoming.”

Soldier. He wasn’t – quite – the Soldier. But he was in his body, and that worked just as well.

“One.”

Asset. Only the Asset.

“Freight car.”

Tony didn’t remember anything after that.

***

Tony became aware again in the compound. He didn’t remember waking up, he just – was. Everything was groggy. He felt like he was moving through honey.

Slowly, thought returned. He saw Hydra insignias everywhere; the handler was leading the both of them down a hallway.

 _Dammit,_ he thought with a sick sense of dread. _Failed._

He didn’t quite have full control of his bodily functions just yet – it was like coming out of the worst hangover of his life. His body was moving just fine, perfectly normal, but he wasn’t the one consciously doing it. Muzzily, he looked up and saw the Captain ahead of him, walking beside the handler with the Hydra patch on his shoulder.

 _No,_ he thought desperately to himself. _We were supposed to escape!_

“The Soldier was the one using the computer,” he heard one of them mutter in the ear of the person waiting at the end of the hall. A moment later, they stepped into the room. There was a chair there, taking up the focus in the room. It looked like some kind of dentist’s chair, except that this one had restraints on the arms and the ankles. There was a circle of metal hanging above the chair, and computers and screens all around it. Tony couldn’t tell what the chair was for, but it gave him a sickening feeling of doom.

“Recalibrate him first,” the man who seemed to be in charge told them.

 _Oh, no,_ Tony thought as the men on either side of him began to drag him to the chair. He began to get more control over his body, and tugged back, trying to fight being brought to the chair because _God knew what it did_ , but the men simply began to drag him.

“Soldier does not require recalibration,” the Captain spoke up suddenly, and the guards looked at the blond in surprise, not having expected the protest from the normally placid Asset.

“Captain,” the one in charge greeted, nodding for the guards to stop guiding Tony and clasping his hands behind his back. “Mission report.”

“Mission success,” the Captain intoned, face blank. “Target shot, single bullet to cerebral cortex. No witnesses. No collateral damage.”

“Status report on Winter Soldier,” the man demanded next, expression evaluating.

“Status: within acceptable parameters,” the Captain said, and Tony wished he could see the inner cogs working in the man’s brain. His face was expressionless, but Tony _knew_ that the man was lying through his teeth. Rogers knew exactly what Tony’s plan had been in escaping – he knew that Tony was to blame for this mess. But you couldn’t see this on his face – he was simply a cold machine, reporting damage.

“47 hours before Soldier requires sustenance to remain within parameters,” the Captain continued. “62 hours before sleep is required to remain within parameters.”

“Status report on Winter Captain,” the man in charge demanded next.

“Status: not within acceptable parameters,” the Captain said, as toneless as ever. “Fissure in conditioning detected. Immediate recalibration required. 32 minutes before Captain requires sustenance to remain within parameters. 9 hours before sleep is required to remain within parameters.”

 _Holy shit, he’s laying himself down on the guillotine,_ Tony thought to himself in horror.

“Put the Captain down,” the leader ordered the guards beside Steve, and the guards still holding Tony pulled him back out of the way. Tony could hardly do anything, staring dumbly as Steve was manhandled into the chair. He vaguely heard the leader muttering to himself, “Fucking Soldier always trying to take the blame. Fucking inconvenience when you can only trust one of them.”

 _Shit,_ Tony thought wildly, _Steve always takes the blame when Other Tony tries to get them out. What the actual **fuck**._

“Put him in cryo,” the leader instructed the guards holding Tony. “He’s fine. Then come back for the Captain.”

“Captain,” Tony was finally able to speak, muttering like his mouth was full of peanut butter. At the chair, the manacles snapped over the Captain’s wrists and ankles, and Tony saw his chest heaving with labored breaths as he accepted a mouth guard that was slipped between his teeth. The sense of dread in his chest only grew as plates began to lower around the Captain’s head and stress began to bleed through into his expression. No, not quite stress – _fear_.

“Your Captain will join you shortly, Soldier,” the leader dismissed him with a curve of his lips that looked all too cruel. An electric whine began to build up in the machines around the chair. “Go with them.”

Automatically, unable to control his bodily functions, Tony followed the Hydra guards. Almost as soon as he turned, he heard the Captain begin to _scream_ – pain so visceral it was unable to be held inside even by the most conditioned of men. He wanted to cry, he wanted to yell, he wanted to _rage_ – but his body held him captive as he followed down another hallway, screams fading but still audible.

When he was shoved into a space about the size of a coffin, he felt the scream building up in his throat – frustration, fear, helplessness…but he could do nothing as the door closed in front of him with a snap and the locking mechanism slid into place. A moment later, the temperature around him dropped suddenly and dramatically, and he felt his limbs freeze up _painfully_.

He still heard the Captain screaming. It was the last thing he heard before it went dark around him, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks rotten tomatoes from angry readers*  
> ...It won't be that bad?  
> *runs away*


	7. Two Captains and a Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I have been messing with this chapter for three months and I'm still not super satisfied, but I decided fuck it and decided to post it, anyway. So, hopefully it's not too disappointing.  
> School is hard, folks. I changed my major again and it's...it's hard. I'm glad I start Thanksgiving break in a couple days, holla.  
> I'll be honest, 98% of he reason for this chapter is just because I wanted to save Steve and the first attempt in the last chapter felt like it was too easy. So...I drew it out an extra 8,000 words. You're welcome. ;)

She was waiting for him in the dream world. She still looked like Steve though – but she didn’t carry a single one of his mannerisms. She was sitting calmly on the couch in his living room, gazing up at him as he appeared in front of her.

“I’ll admit that sending you there was an impulsive move,” she said delicately, but unapologetically. “But you have learned more of his character, yes?”

Tony remained silent, glowering at her with fury in his eyes.

She sighed, rising to her feet and patting imaginary dust off her jeans. “There are many worlds with this kind of pain, Tony Stark,” she told him. “Yours is one of them. Giving you a glimpse of the sacrifices people make works best with extreme scenarios.”

“Why the _fuck_ did you let me get so far?” Tony demanded. “I got in contact with Clint, and _then_ they had to find us? What kind of fucked up – why would you let Steve have that hope _again_? He had tried escaping _so_ many times – who _knows_ when it will cross their minds again?!”

“I do not control what occurs in these worlds,” the woman said with a delicate shrug of Steve’s shoulders. It looked odd on that body, but Tony didn’t pay attention to it this time. “I simply observe, and drop some individuals in such as yourself to see what you’ll make of it.”

“Would you just stop _fucking_ with me?” Tony demanded angrily. “I get it, you’re high and mighty and powerful and I’m at your mercy. So _stop_ , because I may not be in _love_ with Rogers, but _no one_ deserves what those two were going through in that world, and I would have _gladly_ suffered a bit longer to get them out. But _you_ had to fuck that all up and pull me out before I was ready!”

“You did learn what you needed to learn,” she pointed out. “There was no other reason for you to stay.”

“No other…!” Tony cut himself off, took a furious breath in through his nose. “I don’t fucking _care_ what your plan was for me or for Steve or for both of us. I _wanted_ to _help_. I wanted to get them out of there, to some fuckers who wouldn’t use them before literally putting them on ice when they don’t need them.”

She gazed at him for a moment, and he rolled his eyes, about to say something sarcastically about her callousness, but she cut him off before he could.

“Very well,” she said. “I will send you back there. You will be there the moment the Soldier is awakened again, and you will go through everything the Soldier would have. I will give you one hundred hours down there, and then the next time you sleep, you will come back.”

Hope began to bloom in his heart, and he looked at her disbelievingly.

She shook her head at him. “Perhaps there is more you could learn in this world,” she hummed. “And I’m not one to get in the way of love.”

“It’s not _love_ …” Tony started in protest, and she leaned forward, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Nah-ah – _sh_ ,” she commanded patronizingly. “You can fool yourself, but don’t bother trying to fool me. I’m the goddess of soulmates; I know these things.”

 _Goddess of **something** , that’s for sure, _Tony thought to himself fuzzily.

He didn’t remember anything after that.

* * *

His awareness was sudden and painful. He felt that sickening lack of complete control, but this time his body wasn’t moving either. He felt himself being dragged, his arms slung between two people as he hung. He was cold, but it seemed it was too much effort for his body to shiver, because he was completely limp. His metal arm felt stiff, like it was creaky and rusted.

Before he knew it, they were in the room he remembered leaving before – the one with the Chair. He saw Steve, in the corner, wearing his tac gear and standing in parade rest, watching him with blank eyes.

The men were unfamiliar around him – different from the ones who had been there when he had been shoved in the fucking _cold_ freezer. He wondered vaguely how much time had passed, because surely at least _one_ of them would have been someone he had seen before if it was any time period less than a few months.

But – but they were taking him to the Chair. The one that had made Steve _scream_ with so much pain. Why was he going to the chair?

“No,” he tried to protest, but with his body and mind as sluggish as it was, it came out sounding more like a low moan. It didn’t affect anything, and as he tried regaining functionality he found himself lowered to sit in the Chair, manacles snapping immediately into place. He tugged weakly at them, eyes scanning the room for a way out.

“Nng,” he whimpered, eyes finding Steve again. The man was watching him with a blank face, no recognition in his eyes.

 _It’ll be fine,_ Tony tried reassuring himself. _I’m here to save Steve. Whatever happens next – I agreed to it._

Then his vision was obscured by a metal piece settling into place over the left half of his face. He felt another cold piece settled over his right cheekbone. He heard that ominous whine –

And then –

_Pain._

He screamed.

* * *

He returned to awareness some interminable amount of time later. His thoughts were fuzzy, groggy, like he was nursing a hangover.

There were a lot more Hydra agents around them this time.

He blinked, keeping his face carefully blank and not letting on that anything had occurred in his mind. He carefully evaluated the ten agents in the van with him and Steve. He was beside Steve, sitting shoulder to hip to ankle against each other, at the front of the van. He could feel the gun strapped to his ankle, the knives in the sheaths at his torso. There was a sniper rifle in its case next to him. Steve was similarly attired – similar, because he had no guns on him that Tony could detect – only several knives and daggers. He supposed it must be because of the probation Steve was on. But their confidence even in giving him that much implied that enough time had passed that he’d been “recalibrated” enough.

The eight agents in the back had a lot fewer weapons than Steve and Tony did – he could see a gun on each man’s ankle, and two more on their belts. The driver and the passenger probably had more than that, but he couldn’t see without making it obvious that he was looking. He had about settled the amount of weapons in his mind when he noticed that a couple of them had grenades on their belts. A quick check, and the rest of them didn’t.

“ETA five minutes,” the driver spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Closing communications now till mission completion.”

Tony waited until he heard the confirmation from the other side and the communication flicked off before he made his move.

Or, he would have, except that just before he did, Steve casually – so casually he didn’t notice at first – reached down with his flesh arm, calmly wrapping his fingers around Tony’s thigh and _squeezed_.

Tony startled – because that fucking _hurt_ – but it thankfully went unnoticed by the agents as they were talking amongst themselves. He tried moving his knee closer to himself, to shake the bruising grip, but Steve’s fingers only tightened in warning.

Glancing at him – carefully, _so_ carefully so the agents didn’t suspect anything was amiss – he found Steve gazing into the distance, at nothing in particular. Except –

Except.

Tony recognized that look. That look wasn’t the placid blankness of the Winter Captain. That was the cool focus of Captain America, right before he did something brazen and probably stupid, all in the name of protecting someone else.

No, not Captain America, he realized – _Steve Rogers_. He was looking at the little shit from Brooklyn who couldn’t back down from a fight, who wanted to save everyone regardless of his size or abilities.

And that look…with that look – he knew that Steve had a plan. He wasn’t holding Tony back in fear of repercussions from their persecutors – he was pausing his actions for long enough that his own plan could come into play.

It itched, not to know the plan here, what the Captain was thinking, but Tony subsided, hoping and trusting that _somehow_ , Steve knew how to get them out.

Rogers must have felt the muscles under his hand relax, because the bruising grip relaxed a moment later, and his fingers rubbed soothingly where they had squeezed before. Tony blinked, surprised by the thoughtful gesture, but before he could think on it too much, the Captain pulled his hand away to rest on top of his own leg as though nothing had happened.

Minutes later, the car slowed to a stop, and Tony followed the Captain’s lead in remaining still – _compliant_ – while the agents went to open the back door.

It was once the doors had swung open, a path left open for Hydra’s Assets to walk through that Tony detected a change in Steve’s stance. His muscles tightened against his – Tony could feel it even through the tac gear the way Cap stiffened – and he rose to his feet.

Almost quicker than Tony could follow, Cap pulled both guns from the sides of his belt, shot through all eight agents in the back as he walked toward the door at the back. His face was as blank as ever, but Tony felt safer than he had since he’d awakened.

When he got to the doors, Steve turned on his heel and shot both the agents in the front of the car – agents who had barely turned as they recognized the commotion. It had happened in such a short amount of time, and it had been so unexpected, that most of them probably hadn’t even seen the attack coming. The ones who did had no chance to react to save themselves.

“Come,” the Captain instructed shortly, hopping down from the van and landing solidly on his feet on the muddy ground outside. He waited for Tony to pick his way through the bodies, and held out a hand to help Tony out when he got close enough. Tony was too surprised by the chivalrous gesture to object, and accepted the support as he jumped out of the van.

Once he was out, Rogers reached back in to grab a grenade from one of the belts, pulling it before Tony could get a word out (not that he would have protested). Tossing it in the back, he slammed the door shut and began taking quick, deliberate strides into the trees. Tony ran after him, trying to get clear of the truck before it exploded.

Moments later, the grenade exploded, and Tony couldn’t help the instinctive duck, even as he continued to follow after the blond.

“You are still here,” the Captain said tonelessly as he walked. Tony wasn’t positive whether or not the man knew where he was going, but Tony didn’t even know where they _were_ , much less how to get somewhere familiar, so he decided to follow him.

Then the words he said registered, and Tony said in surprise, “You remember?”

“You are not the Soldier,” Rogers said tersely. “You know the way out.”

“Is that why you decided to fight back _today_?” Tony questioned with an arched eyebrow. “Because you saw I wasn’t your Soldier?”

“Affirmative,” Rogers said. “You said that the Soldier would be back. But you are still here.”

Tony heard the question even if Rogers didn’t recognize he was asking it, and he said, “I’ll only be here a few days longer. How long has it been since I was here?”

“Unknown,” Rogers reported. “The date is September 21, 2011.”

“Shit,” Tony muttered to himself. It’d been four years since he had been here, yet to him it was like it was hours ago. “Was I on ice the whole time?”

“Affirmative,” Rogers answered. “Winter Captain was sent out on solo missions to make up for failure to behave favorably. This mission was the first for Captain and Soldier to go out together.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, trying not to think about what the man must have been through and _done_ in those four years interim. It must have been hell. “So, now that I’m back, I can get us out – for _real_ , this time. How much time before anyone realizes we’ve gone AWOL?”

“Six hours,” Steve said briefly. “Take point. What is our first step?”

“Well,” Tony thought, glancing around the forest. “Where are we, first off?”

“Outskirts of St. Clairsville, Ohio,” Rogers stated.

“Okay…” Tony said with a blink, “I have fuck all ideas about where that is, but – Ohio. Okay. I can do that. Um…we need a car. And a phone. Preferably ones that can’t be tracked by Hydra. We’ll start from there.”

* * *

Tony would have felt bad about breaking in to someone’s house in any other circumstance, but with conditions as they were, Tony could only muster a vague sort of regret that disappeared as soon as he got his hands on a smartphone and a laptop.

A few clicks of keys, and he was able to get surveillance on Barton again. He was in one of the SHIELD training rooms, which made sense because this time it wasn’t the middle of the night and they were in the same hemisphere. He was running through some course set up with fake hostiles and hostages, shooting arrows out at the hostiles faster than Tony could follow.

Luckily, Hawkeye was just winding down with the routine when Tony found him, so Tony only had to wait but minutes for him to be in a place where he could contact him without alerting others or startling his teammate. Once the man was alone, he sent off a quick text to his phone.

_Hawkeye, it’s Tony again._

He watched as Clint read the message with a creased eyebrow in confusion, before recognition suddenly dawned and his eyes popped open wide.

“Tony?” Clint questioned quietly, looking around the empty locker room warily, like he was expecting Tony to be right there with him.

 _You can text back this time – the phone is linked to the computer._ Tony typed out. _We’re a bit closer to you this time, but our situation is no less urgent. We need a quiet extraction._

This time Clint didn’t speak out loud, but sent off a quick text back. Tony waited anxiously for it to come through, unable to read by Clint’s expression exactly what he was thinking.

**Yeah, how do I find you? And what proof can you give me that you’re really a defector?**

Tony gnawed on his lip for a moment, pondering what to do in this situation. Then, it hit him, and he rapidly sent off a reply.

_We can’t really give you proof right now, not until we’re in person. But we have a mutual friend who has had enough ice baths for a literal lifetime._

It took but a moment for Clint to catch on, and he looked alarmed as his fingers typed out a rapid-fire message back.

**How the FUCK do you know about him? That’s Level 7 classified.**

Tony snorted, unable to help himself from replying with a snarky, _Last I checked, you were Level 6._ Before Clint could reply to that, he typed out, _You will understand when we’re face to face. You can even bring our friend, if you’d like. Or don’t. But I promise it’s just Steve and me._

Then, Clint proved himself smarter than Tony had ever estimated with his next response. **Relics can be preserved in ice, little known fact. I assume you’ll be bringing two more relics?**

Tony smirked, mouth quirking to the side a bit at the archer’s deduction. _I prefer the term “antique.”_

Clint snorted, typing out a response quickly. **Fine, then. I’ll come. I’ll leave you surprised by who I bring with me.**

This made Tony nervous, but he knew that objecting would only make the SHIELD agent suspicious. He didn’t bother responding, simply sending him the coordinates before closing out the program, which he knew would cause an alert to appear on Clint’s phone before the entire conversation was deleted, leaving only enough time for Clint to see the coordinates.

“He’ll be here soon,” Tony told Steve unnecessarily, as the blond had been following along with the conversation the entire time. The Captain didn’t point this out though, simply nodding and settling down to wait.

* * *

Tony saw the quinjet before he heard it – the thing was near silent, but it still produced enough wind around it to affect the veritable forest outside. It touched down in a small clearing right next to the house the two of them had broken into, and they stood at the edge of said clearing, waiting for the engine to power down and for the people inside to come out.

Tony could feel the tense lines of Rogers next to him – the man was understandably wary of another organization coming to pick them up, and nervous at the possible ramifications of it. The only thing that kept him in place was his trust in Tony – or, more accurately, his trust in _the Soldier_ who was currently out of commission.

Clint came out of the quinjet warily, in full-on battle gear, bow strung and all. His eyes locked on the two of them a couple hundred feet away and he blinked in what Tony recognized as surprise only because he had been living with a version of the man for several months and knew his tells.

“That’s either hella good facial masking tech, or you really are Steve Rogers and Tony Stark,” Clint observed, eyes tracking them guardedly. He didn’t drop his weapon. “Which suddenly gives a whole new meaning to Winter Captain and Winter Soldier.”

“Is anyone else with you?” Tony questioned, not responding directly to Clint’s comments.

“Is anyone else with _you_?” Clint countered, fingers tightening on the end of his bow.

“It’s just us,” Tony assured him. “We escaped about four and a half hours ago – they won’t know we’re AWOL for another hour and a half.”

“You’re awfully chatty for a couple of assassins,” Barton said, seemingly apropos of nothing, but Tony detected the suspicion underneath it.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” Tony admitted. “I’m – look, I’ll explain it to you later. But suffice it to say for now that I’m not your usual Winter Soldier. Or Tony Stark. I – know things, better, because I’m not from here. Aaand I’ve just confused you further.” He looked helplessly between Clint and Steve.

“He is not the Soldier,” Steve confirmed, blue eyes tracking Clint’s movements. “That is why he was able to get us out. He is not programmed.”

“Okay, but out of _where_?” Clint demanded. “How are you still _alive_?”

“We’ve been over this, Legolas,” Tony quipped. “We were frozen, just like Cap was. Only it wasn’t our choice, in this case.”

“Who have you been under for the past seventy-odd years?” Clint pressed.

“Hydra,” Tony replied simply, causing the archer to start in surprise. “I don’t know a lot about it. Rogers probably knows even less. But I know they didn’t disappear in World War II, and they’ve used the Soldier and the Captain to their own ends for decades. Having electricity repeatedly shot through the brain causes memory loss and prevents resistance.”

Clint stared at them for a moment, gaze bouncing between the two, and then he sighed, shaking his head wearily and relaxing his grip on the bow, but not entirely unstringing the arrow. “I have a feeling the two of you are going to give me more headaches than Tasha ever did,” he muttered. “What the hell, may as well collect the full set of most infamous Russian assassins.” He stepped aside and nodded his head toward the door to the quinjet. “In you go. May as well give me a reputation for this.”

Tony nudged Steve’s arm with his own, causing the blond to tilt his head but not take his eyes away from the archer.

“It’s fine, he’s a friend,” Tony assured him quietly. “Where I’m from…he’ll become one of your best friends – best allies.”

It was the last description that did more good than the first, but Tony didn’t mind as they walked side by side into the jet, Clint bringing up the rear behind them.

Upon seeing that the quinjet was empty, Tony couldn’t help his incredulous comment. “You actually _are_ alone?! What the hell, Barton! What if it _had_ been a trap and we were luring you in to kill you?!”

Barton simply laughed, the idiot, and slipped his arrow back into the quiver, going to the pilot’s seat, keeping his back seemingly trustingly to them, if Tony didn’t know for a fact that Hawkeye knew exactly where they were behind him like he really _did_ have eyes on the back of his head. “That right there convinces me of your good intentions more than anything,” he told him honestly. “You sound like Tasha.”

“Romanoff has more sense in her _toe_ than you do in your entire _body_ ,” Tony glowered. “Your moniker is supposed to be a reflection on your _eyes_ , Barton – not the size of your _brain_.” The archer simply shrugged, and Tony rolled his eyes and turned away, looking back at Rogers.

“At ease, Captain,” Tony said, taking in the taut muscles and the jutted chin – signs of stress. “We’re just headed to headquarters – it’ll be maybe an hour.”

“Yeah, this is gonna be confusing,” Clint complained. “We already _have_ a Captain! What the hell am I supposed to call you?!”

“You may call the Asset whatever pleases you, Sir,” Rogers said tonelessly, metal arm whirring as he clenched his fist – another stress response.

“Rogers is fine,” Tony cut in before Clint could say something predictably stupid. He took Cap’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles to get him to relax. Thankfully, the man let him – apparently he was enough of a replacement for Steve’s own Tony that he could accept the comfort for now. “Or even Steve.”

“Steve it is,” Clint agreed as he pulled the jet off the ground and into the air. “I watched _Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood_ enough times that it would be weird to call you any variation of that.”

Tony shook his head to himself. It seemed that no matter the universe, Clint would always be… _Clint_.

* * *

Clint landed the quinjet a little less than an hour later. Steve’s body had gradually tensed as they grew closer to their arrival, and he made no protest as Tony held their hands clasped together the entire time. Part of it, Tony could admit to himself, was because he wanted to comfort Steve. But it was also in large part because if he was holding his hand, he would be able to tell if Steve was going to freak out and attack someone when he tensed his muscles for fight. Everything had gone smoothly so far, and Tony had a hard time _not_ worrying and doubting that things were going to go south at some point. It was Tony’s life – sort of – it _had_ to. He was a poster boy for Murphy’s Law.

Also, he maybe wanted a little comfort himself, but he’d be damned if he ever admitted that out loud.

“Who knows we’re coming?” Tony questioned as the quinjet’s engines began to power down.

“You, specifically?” Clint said with a raised eyebrow. “No one. I told my handler I was headed out for a couple of defectors, and I’m sure he told the Director.”

“What about Cap?” Tony queried, finding it odd to be referring to Barnes as ‘Cap’ when _his_ Cap was right next to him. Sort of. “Does he…”

Clint shook his head. “Didn’t want to raise his hopes in case you were a couple of posers. Still not positive on that, by the way. But he’ll probably be called in to identify you. He’s probably in the gym right now – he usually is. So it shouldn’t be too long before we figure out what the fuck this is all about.”

“No one can know about our presence here,” Tony said, stopping Clint with a hand to his arm right before he got to the door. “There are Hydra agents within SHIELD, and until we know each one for sure…”

Clint swore under his breath at this information, before he nodded his understanding. “I’ll do my best,” he said. “This is a private hangar – I can get to the Director’s office from here. We’ll go right there. You’ll probably need to disarm before going on. Fury gets twitchy around known assassins.” His gaze went to the myriad of guns strapped around the two.

“We’ll leave some behind,” Tony allowed, because he knew there was no way they wouldn’t be shot if their weapons were so visible, “But we won’t go completely without.”

Clint sighed. “I suppose that’s the best I could’ve expected,” he admitted. “Come on. Let’s go see how much trouble I’m in this time.”

* * *

Fury yelled. A lot. Tony might have been impressed, if he wasn’t inured to the gruff man’s brand of shouting and disapproval already. As it was, he was mostly bored as he waited for the man to finish chewing out the archer and for Coulson to come into the room already with the Captain. The other Captain. Captain America. Who was not Steve Rogers.

 _What even is my life?_ He wondered to himself vaguely as he glanced around the room at the subtle differences he could note between the worlds. The Furys of both worlds seemed to have the same poor, utilitarian taste in decoration, if the hard surfaces and washed out shades of blue and grey were anything to go by.

Rogers was blank-faced next to him, but Tony, more familiar with the blond, could see the lines of tension in every inch of his body. Poor Steve, he thought to himself sympathetically. The guy was going into this totally blindly – he was probably very confused. And he didn’t know that they were among allies. The only ally he sort of trusted was Tony, whom he knew was not his normal Soldier. He probably felt very alone.

Pursing his lips, Tony couldn’t help reaching out with his flesh hand, taking Steve’s flesh hand in his own to try and provide an anchor of comfort. However, unlike on the helicarrier where he had accepted the reassurance, now he stood rigidly, like he didn’t even notice the grasp. But Tony knew he did. Steve just thought they were among possible enemies and didn’t want to reveal anything for fear of it being used against them later.

“Look, they didn’t kill me on the way here, and they had _more than_ enough opportunity to do so,” Clint was arguing with his superior, hands on his hips in a show of defiance. “Plus, they’ve wanted out for a while. They knew how to hack in enough that they could get in contact with me without SHIELD knowing – they very easily could have done something else with that kind of access!”

“And who’s to say they _didn’t_ , Agent?” Fury demanded. “You said it yourself – we didn’t catch it. They very easily could have done something else in secret with our servers!”

“They didn’t,” Clint said with certainty. “Their focus was on escaping. And I think we need to focus on the fact that we have the _former_ Captain America and one of the Howling Commandoes here! Don’t you think their claim that Hydra is still alive and breathing deserves _some_ kind of merit?!”

“We don’t know _what_ we have here,” Fury argued. “And you were absolutely reckless in bringing the Winter Soldiers…”

“ – Winter Soldier and Winter Captain, actually – ”

“…straight to SHIELD headquarters!” Fury raised his voice to be heard over Clint’s correction.

“Well, where _else_ was I supposed to bring them?” Clint demanded, waving a hand in their direction. “They need help! And we have one of their friends already here, who _can_ help!”

“We also didn’t want to risk Hydra finding us again in the meantime,” Tony pointed out helpfully. “Going straight to the top would prevent our quiet disappearance, should we go to someone we didn’t know for certain we could trust.”

The door opened behind him as he spoke, and he turned his head to see who it was when Fury responded.

“And what made you so certain you could trust Agent Barton, Soldier?”

But Tony didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the people who had just come in – or, more specifically, on one of the people – Bucky Barnes, wearing a blue tee shirt and workout pants, holding the Captain America shield in front of him but who seemed to have forgotten it entirely as his wide blue eyes were fixed on the two of them in shock.

“Tony?” he breathed in a heartbreaking voice, and when Steve turned slightly at the first person who had addressed Tony by name, Bucky’s eyes went impossibly wider. “Steve?”

Steve simply looked confused. Bucky directed his words to Fury, but didn’t tear his eyes away from the two of them.

“What the hell is going on?”

* * *

Bucky couldn’t stop staring at them as Barton gave his report – the original message four years ago, as well as the events of just that day, and everything they had talked about in the past couple of hours. Not that Tony could blame him. Bucky, that is. He tried to imagine if Steve had suddenly gotten Bucky back – his best friend and brother in all but blood. Immediately his heart gave a pang – reminiscent of the hurt that came whenever he thought about what the Steve in this world had been through in the past several decades. Knowing that someone you loved had been through it had to be almost as bad.

Coulson and Natasha listened intently, and while Coulson’s gaze seemed to be reminiscent of the hero worship he gave Captain America, Natasha only looked suspicious. And Tony knew he was only being allowed to see that suspicion because Natasha allowed it.

“How did you break it?” Bucky asked them, gaze darting between Tony and Steve. “The conditioning, I mean. How did you – escape? Why now?”

Tony glanced at Steve, but the blond didn’t look at him. He was gazing just to the left of Barnes’ shoulder, not making eye contact and not acknowledging the man’s question in any way.

“It’s a valid question,” Natasha observed after a pause where it seemed clear the two former assassins weren’t going to volunteer anything. Then, switching to Russian, she demanded, “ _Captain, Soldier – what are your orders?_ ”

“ _Obey,_ ” Steve said in Russian, blankness stealing over his features as conditioning kicked in at the language and the phrasing.

“ _Obey what?_ ” Natasha pressed.

Steve seemed to struggle for what to say there, before he answered, “ _Obey mission parameters._ ”

“ _What are your current mission parameters?_ ” Natasha demanded.

“ _Mission: follow Soldier. Find allies. Collateral damage acceptable, though not preferable._ ”

Then, Natasha’s green-eyed gaze turned fully to Tony, and Tony felt that almost familiar feeling of being the Spider’s prey. Last time he’d had this gaze directed on him though, it had been because Natasha was interrogating him about who had taken the last of the peanut butter brownie ice cream.

“ _Soldier, mission report._ ”

“Well, I’d say it was a success,” Tony said in English, clearly throwing the redhead for a loop. “We escaped Hydra, got to Clint, got to SHIELD, reunited with long-lost war buddies, and are quickly on our way to protection. Or am I reading things wrong?”

“How did you break your conditioning on your own?” Natasha questioned, never tearing her eyes from his.

Tony grimaced. “Well, kind of funny you should ask…I’m not the Tony Stark that belongs here.”

“You mentioned that, before,” Clint observed, proddingly.

“Yeah, and I knew I’d have to enumerate later, so it’s good that I waited so I could save my breath,” Tony snarked. “What is it with spies and their paranoia? Is that in the Welcome to SHIELD Handbook? Or is it in a requirement to get hired in the first place?” He shook his head. “I don’t really know what the fuck is going on with me, but I keep getting sent by some alien-goddess-person to all these different worlds and this one is not at _all_ like mine, but when I woke up to Captain America dressed like some goth about to kill some guy, I wanted to get him out. And your real Tony. So I contacted Clint, but Hydra found us before we could get out.”

“Even if we _did_ believe you,” Fury said skeptically, “What would you have to gain from this? Are we to believe that you came to SHIELD out of the goodness of your heart?”

Tony shook his head. “You obviously don’t have real friends, Eyepatch, or you wouldn’t even bother asking. Why the hell would I let some poor soul be tortured, even if he wasn’t from my own world? As for why SHIELD? Barnes is here. He can help. Clint helped Natasha, so he’s the obvious answer for who to go to when in a similar situation as she was. Natasha _has_ been through something like this, so she can help recovery-wise.”

“You seem fairly recovered to me,” Coulson pointed out.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Were you not listening? I’m _not_ your Tony. I’ll only be here a bit longer. After that, I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know who the Soldier was before I took over his life for a bit. I do still have some kind of completely physical conditioning – i.e., trigger phrases still work on me even though I wasn’t there for the training – but I don’t have the memories or the associated trauma. That’ll be on you guys to deal with after I’m gone.”

“You’re being very open about this all, which gives me reason to believe that there’s something you’re trying to hide,” Fury was the one to say – suspiciously, of course.

“I don’t have long,” Tony said frustratedly. “So I’m trying to give you as much as I can in the time that I have.” He blinked then, realizing something, and turned to the Captain, who had remained heretofore silent.

“Cap, how long has it been since I came out of cryofreeze?”

“Fifty-three hours and seventeen minutes,” Steve replied automatically.

“Shit,” Tony pursed his lips. “More time than I thought…well, I’m a little more than halfway through my sojourn into this world, then.”

“You’re going to be here for _four more years_?” Clint demanded suddenly, incredulously. “How the hell is that not long?!”

Suddenly, beside him, Steve was tense. It was almost unnoticeable, and Tony thought it was because of Clint’s raised voice at first, which was why he was completely unprepared for the Captain to whirl around, and grab him by the neck with his metal arm, walking purposefully to the wall and slamming him into it.

“Steve!” Tony heard Bucky call out in shock over the exclamations of surprise from the others. But he noted it only distantly, much more focused on the hand around his neck that made it much more difficult to breathe.

“You said that it would be a few days,” Steve hissed, blue eyes blazing into Tony’s furiously as he spoke. His voice was cold, accusing, and Tony blinked, holding Steve’s arm but not trying to force it away even as his oxygen decreased. And he knew he could have moved it, if he wanted to, what with the increased strength in this body and the metal arm.

Steve shook him slightly, flesh hand clenched tightly on his tactical vest. “You bring _my_ Soldier _back_!”

“Steve!” Bucky cried, reaching the two of them and grabbing Steve’s arm, but Steve simply snarled, not seeing a friend but rather someone pulling him away from his mission.

“ _Captain, desist!_ ” Natasha called out in Russian, but Steve ignored her, focused wholly on the man in his grasp. His face was set in a menacing snarl, promising pain if Tony didn’t do what he wanted.

“Two days,” Tony gasped out, holding Steve’s gaze and willing him to trust him. Steve loosened his grip around his throat just enough to let him speak. “Forty-seven hours, and I’ll be gone. Promise, Steve. I didn’t lie. I meant I was halfway through since last waking up. You said it was fifty-three hours. I have one hundred hours here, and then between one blink and the next, I’ll be gone. You’ll have your Soldier back then.”

“If you are still here, in forty-seven hours,” Rogers started his threat, hand flexing on his throat and eyes cold as he looked into Tony’s.

“I won’t be,” Tony promised, patting his hand. Rogers stared at him, and then he nodded once in acknowledgement, releasing Tony entirely and even taking a step back.

“We’ll help you,” Bucky spoke up, looking between Tony and Steve with confused, pained eyes. “Both of you. I don’t know _you_ , Tony, but I know that the Tony that I know would react just the same as you.” He laughed, a little wetly. “You – _he_ – would have to talk Stevie down from stupid ideas, too.”

“I know you will,” Tony said at Bucky’s first comment. “It’s why we came here.”

“Well, it looks like I’ve completely lost control of my organization,” Fury spoke up with a grumble, but Tony was pretty sure he wasn’t genuinely upset at them anymore. It seemed Steve’s show of distrust had strengthened Fury’s own – had lent credence to Tony’s claims of not being from there.

“And it seems we have a bit of pest control to take care of,” Fury continued. “Captain?”

“We’ll get right on it,” Bucky promised without looking at the Director. “Come on, Steve –Tony. You can stay with me for now while we figure this out.”

* * *

“I mentioned it before, but you are a lot like my Tony,” Bucky said the next day.

They’d talked for several hours the day before – with the rest of the team, with the Director, with just Bucky. Going over what Tony knew, which really wasn’t a lot. Steve had been a mostly silent presence, keeping a watchful eye on everyone and constantly checking the exits. It had been late when they’d finally made it to bed, but Steve had insisted on keeping watch the first several hours to make sure Tony was safe. Tony was pretty sure he’d stayed awake the whole night, but when he’d tried to offer to return the favor, Steve had declined. Tony was almost certain it was because he wasn’t the Soldier Steve knew – Steve didn’t entirely trust him. And that didn’t hurt at all.

He couldn’t help the feeling very close to affection that swept through him though when he thought about Steve sacrificing his sleep to make sure Tony was safe, though. He shoved it away a moment later though, because Steve just wanted Tony’s body to be safe long enough for the Soldier to come back. It wasn’t _Tony_ he was protecting. Not really.

“How so?” Tony questioned Bucky’s previous question, tilting his head a bit in consideration. He was curious to know what another version of himself was like. What? He was a scientist – it was a natural curiosity.

“Well, you care about Steve, above all else,” Bucky stated with a surprising amount of honesty. “But it’s even just those little things – you move the same way, you have the same expressions. It’s like watching an echo.”

“Hm,” Tony hummed, mentally cataloguing the other man’s response for future reference. “Kinda funny though, don’t you think? Your Tony grew up in the thirties; I grew up in the nineties…and we’re still so similar. Really gives you ideas about nature vs. nurture, doesn’t it?”

Bucky hummed, switching out the pencil he was holding for another one as he worked on the drawing in front of him. Several moments later, he paused his sketching and looked up at Tony.

“What am I like in your world?” he asked curiously. “You seem pretty familiar with me, at least.”

“You’re probably the Winter Soldier,” Tony said with a sigh. “Because I don’t know. The only _you_ I’ve met has been in other worlds.” He raised his metal arm to eye level, examining the plates as they moved and shifted. “This was a tattoo, in one of the other worlds. Steve did the artwork.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “I had a _tattoo_?!” he was almost as shocked as he’d been finding out they were still alive.

Tony snorted. “You had _several_ ,” he said emphatically. “But Steve had more. You both worked at a tattoo/piercing parlor – supersoldiers and aliens didn’t exist.”

Bucky shook his head disbelievingly. “Wow,” he said dumbly. Then, shaking his head, he looked at Tony shrewdly.

“So, are you two dating in _your_ world, too?” he asked directly.

Tony blinked, startled by the question. “No!” he said hastily. “No, I – he’s…well…I don’t know what he is. We’re not even friends, really. He just lives a couple of floors below me. We argue a lot.”

Bucky raised a single eyebrow. “Somehow I feel I’ll be correct in saying that Steve Rogers in _any_ universe is going to be stubborn and pig-headed…but still very much attracted to short brunettes with a knack for engineering and being able to go toe-to-toe with him.”

“Okay, _first_ of all, I’m not _short_ ,” Tony enunciated with a single raised finger of protest. “5’9” is perfectly average.” He ignored Bucky’s snort at that and went on, “And secondly…how would _you_ know? You’ve only been in _this_ universe.”

“And I’d be willing to bet the shield that in the other ones you’ve been in – how many has it been, by the way? – that you’ve been with Steve in some way, shape, or form.” Tony’s grumbling was answer enough, and Bucky grinned triumphantly.

A moment later, Bucky’s grin faded and he looked back down at his work in progress.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when you’re gone,” he admitted. “You’re like my Tony, but I know you’re going to be different tomorrow…”

“Bucky,” Tony interrupted, expression serious. “Do you plan on abandoning Steve and Tony?”

“ _What_?” Bucky demanded, head snapping up. “ _Hell_ , no!”

“And you still love them, no matter that they’re a bit more murder-y than you remember?”

“Of course – they’re still _them_ ,” Bucky said aggravatedly, waving the hand that held the pencil. “In war Steve would always insist on first watch too, so I know _that_ hasn’t changed. I’m sure I’ll discover more things, but it’s been less than a day.”

“And you’re going to bring down Hydra so that they don’t have to be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives?” Tony confirmed, undeterred from his line of questioning.

“ _Fuck_ , Tony – yes,” Bucky groaned in annoyance.

Tony smiled then. “Then you’ve got all you need,” he said. “I’ve been working with Steve, and I know when the other Tony comes back that if he tries convincing Steve to run that Steve will dissuade him. So they’re not going to run. So you just need to be there for them, and make sure they know it. You’re pretty good at that.” Bucky’s expression calmed and lightened, and he was about to say something, but before he could Tony grimaced.

“Now, stop making me talk about feelings – I’m allergic, and I’m getting hives.

* * *

It didn’t feel very dream-like this time, when he woke up. Or, fell asleep – depending on how you looked at it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the look on Steve’s face as the man had watched him expectantly in the last few minutes before the Soldier appeared. It had been so – hopeful. It was an expression of care, of worry, of love – for the other Tony. Tony wondered if it was possible for the Steve of his world to ever look at him like that.

“You have learned many things in your time with Winter’s Children,” the woman said, and he opened his eyes to see her sitting calmly on one of the stool’s in Bruce’s lab. She still looked like Steve, but her eyes were green again. He glanced around, pulling up his own stool from nearby and plopping down in it.

“Yeah, very educational,” Tony grouched with a roll of his eyes, leaning the top half of his body against the table next to him. He was very tired, having gone through so much in the past several days. And that wasn’t even including the torture of the Soldier in that goddamned Chair.

“Why am I tired?” I’m not even in a body right now,” Tony complained.

“You still have more to learn, however,” the woman said, not paying his words any heed. “So I’m not finished with you yet.”

Tony groaned, long and loud, just in case she didn’t understand exactly how displeased he was by her meddling.

“How many worlds am I going to have to see?” he protested. “I get it, you’re some kind of Cupid and you’re trying to get me and Cap together – right? But you’re missing the point here. All these worlds are different. Yeah, me and him work in some of them. But they can’t _possibly_ work in _all_ of them. And mine is just one of them, okay? So just let me go back and get some sleep – the team’s got to be wondering where I am, now. And don’t even get me started on Pepper.”

“All is well back in your world,” the woman hummed. “But, alright. I shall show you what you wish.”

“What I _wish_ is my own home…” Tony grouched to himself, but he knew that it was useless, because a moment later her hand was pressing lightly to his chest, pushing him back, and down, and…

…

Shit. Tony was falling. He’d never woken up in another universe without the – well – _waking up_ part of it. Now, he could feel the suit all around him, and an unfamiliar Irish woman’s voice was in his ear, alerting him to a problem with the systems –

Instinct took over, and he was curving to the side, twisting and turning and somehow managing not to break anything in his body when he crashed into the ground.

“Whew! _That’ll_ wake you right up!” Tony blurted, shaking his head as he sat up. He became aware of voices in his comms unit going quiet as his team heard that he was okay after the crash.

Now, what was wrong? He wondered. What had caused the suit to crash?

“Diagnostics,” he requested whatever AI was in the suit, because it wasn’t Jarvis. Then he realized that his voice was just a bit too feminine, and…he sighed to himself. Of _course_ he would be a woman again. When was _Steve_ going to be a woman? Tony bet he’d be gorgeous.

“Localized EMP has disabled all systems,” the AI reported.

“Yeah?” Tony questioned. “Then how are _you_ still working?”

“I am, of course, separate from the suit,” the AI said.

“Right, of course,” Tony mumbled, though that made zero sense. “We win, at least?”

The AI had no chance to respond before Tony heard a voice both in the comm and outside the suit.

“Toni! Toni, what the hell?! Are you alright?” Steve demanded, sounding way too angry as he leaped over broken chunks of concrete and twisted cars. Tony glanced around and saw the remains of Doombots, because of course.

“Yeah – yeah, I’m fine,” Tony assured the blond. “I know how to fall to avoid injury.”

“I’ll believe you when I can see you,” Steve said abruptly, but he kept his distance and even began taking a few steps back. Tony couldn’t quite read the expression on his face – it was some mixture of anger and…sadness? Pain? Tony couldn’t tell, and he was pretty sure that Toni had gotten a concussion before he had taken over her body.

God, that sounded horrendous. #MeToo.

“Meet back at the Tower for debrief in twenty,” Steve instructed. “SHIELD is coming for cleanup.”

Steve began to walk away, confusing Tony because…well, he was used to taking Steve back after missions in the armor. At least, for missions that were close by. What was up here?

“Hey,” Tony said, hoping it came off casual, “You need a ride?” He extended an arm to his side in invitation.

Steve’s head snapped around so fast Tony was half surprised he didn’t break it. He looked shocked, like Tony had just insulted his ancestry, or something. Tony wasn’t sure how to take it.

“No,” Steve said stiffly after a moment. “It’s alright. I’ll head back on the ‘jet with everyone else like usual.”

Tony nodded, dropping his arm, though he couldn’t help feeling like he’d missed something.

What was wrong with this world’s Steve and Tony?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never know when I'm going to update my fics, because it's at the whims of my muse. But I will try and get one up fairly soonish. :)  
> Please let me know what you thought!  
> P.S. Also! I got a tumblr. Username is hashtagleh! You ever want to know what I'm doing and why I'm not updating, the answer will probably be on there. ;)


	8. Iron Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are trigger warnings but it will spoil the chapter if I put it here so look in the end notes if you think there might be problems. Be kind to yourself!

Tony didn’t know what was going on between the Toni and Steve of this world, but it made something pull uncomfortably in his gut. Even in his own world, he and Steve were never this… _cold_ towards each other.

As soon as he got back to the Tower after the fight, he locked himself up in his workshop. He was extremely grateful to be in a world more like his own, with Iron Man – or Iron _Woman_ , as the case may be – and aliens and so forth, but the presence of a different AI was very confusing.

“Alright, hon, what’s your name?” Tony asked to the air once the doors were closed.

“I am FRIDAY, Boss,” the AI responded with the lilting Irish accent.

“ _FRIDAY_ ,” Tony mused. “I remember writing your code. In my time, that was just a couple of months ago, but I don’t know how time passes here so who knows how long it’s _really_ been?”

“Boss, are you alright?” FRIDAY questioned. “Do I need to set up an appointment with your doctor?”

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m fine. I’m a dimension hopper for the time being. The brain inside me is Anthony, not Antonia.” He paused thoughtfully before questioning, “Does that make sense?”

“No, Boss.”

Tony shrugged. “Oh, well. Keep any conversations I have with you secret from anyone else. Can you pull up any data on hopping universes? Now that I’ve got a world that _kind of_ makes sense, I can finally dig around a bit more for information on how to get back.”

“Of course, Boss.”

“Oh, and also look up anything about a green-eyed woman who appears in your dreams,” Tony remembered. “And cross-match anything to do with honey. For some reason honey is always incorporated in those dreams.”

“You’ve got it, Boss.”

***

Tony didn’t know how long he had been in the workshop, poring over any results that FRIDAY thought might be viable, but he was dead tired when he finally came up for air. His stomach growled hungrily, and he had found no clues as to who the woman in his dreams was or how to get back to his own universe.

Deciding he needed a nice strong cup of coffee, and seeing as there wasn’t anything for it in the workshop – seriously, who the fuck was he in this universe that he didn’t have easy access to _coffee_? – he padded his way to the elevator to get to the common floor.

His blood sugar must have been low too, he realized, because his head spun a bit when the elevator began to rise, and his vision darkened slightly at the edges with the rush of blood to his head.

Blinking quickly, he stumbled his way into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffeemaker. After pouring the grounds into the pot he made his way to the fridge to look for something to munch on while he waited.

Finding a bag of baby carrots, he decided that they would do and grabbed those. Bumping the fridge closed with his hip, he turned to make his way back to the coffeepot, before he halted in surprise.

Steve was there, looking just as surprised to see him. He was in sweats and a tee shirt, face sweaty like he’d just come back from a run. Tony glanced at the clock though, and found that it was three-thirty in the morning, and even Steve wasn’t crazy enough to go running that early. Tony supposed that he must have been in the gym instead.

“Morning,” Tony drawled, opening the bag of carrots and setting them on the counter, pulling one out and crunching on it.

“Hi,” Steve said, uncharacteristically cautious. “Sorry, I didn’t…know that you’d be in here?” It came out sounding like a question.

Tony shrugged like nothing was amiss. “Working late,” he replied. “What about you? America the Beautiful having a rough night?”

Steve’s forehead creased slightly with his frown. “Something like that,” he said quietly. “Sorry, I’ll just…” he jerked his thumb behind him, and then without another word he turned and ran from the room.

Tony watched after him with a frown. Every other universe the two of them had been disgustingly in love. What was going on here?

***

Tony had been determined to discover organically what was going on, but after just a few days, he broke and asked FRIDAY for help.

He had run into Steve a few more times around the Tower, and each encounter had been more awkward than the last. Steve would always be the one to run from the room, which Tony thought very strange and uncharacteristic of the man who was always ready to go to bat, never backing down in the face of opposition. This new Steve made him uncomfortable for reasons Tony didn’t want to examine.

At first he had thought that it must have been an argument that caused this Steve and Toni to keep their distance. But no argument with Steve had ever lasted this long – Steve was never one to hold grudges. He always wanted to get what was bothering him out into the open.

Added to that was the fact that every other Avenger seemed to know exactly what the problem was, and walked on eggshells around both of them. It always seemed that there was an elephant in the room that no one was willing to bring up, and for Tony, it was incredibly frustrating. How the hell was he supposed to learn whatever this “goddess” wanted him to learn if he couldn’t be in the same room with Steve for longer than a minute?

So, on his fourth day in this universe, he finally addressed FRIDAY to ask what the hell had happened between Steve and Toni.

“Three months, two weeks, and six days ago, Real Boss and Captain Rogers decided to give each other space,” FRIDAY said primly. “I believe most would call it a mutual separation.”

“Separation,” Tony repeated, and looked at the ring on his left hand. “So they _are_ married.”

“Indeed,” FRIDAY confirmed. “They have been married for three years, eleven months, and six days to this day.”

“So what caused them to separate?” Tony questioned. “Was it an argument?”

“Of a sorts,” FRIDAY agreed, and then fell silent.

“You’re being intentionally evasive,” Tony accused, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “What happened? Tell me everything that led to this.”

“Boss was pregnant.”

Tony blinked, words processing a lightning speed in his brain and examining the sentence from every angle, coming up with several different answers.

Finally, after a moment, he said through a dry throat, “ _Was_.”

“Indeed,” FRIDAY said, and there was sadness in her voice. “Real Boss and Captain Rogers discovered it, and made immediate preparations. They were both very excited. Twenty-seven days later Boss had a miscarriage. She was thirteen weeks along.”

“Wait, so they were _both_ excited,” Tony said, shifting some of the new information around in his brain. It wasn’t a case of one wanting the baby while one didn’t, as he’d first suspected. He would’ve thought that Toni wouldn’t want a child – _he_ never had, but then again just the simple fact that he was a man meant that he was raised differently. He didn’t know what sort of life Toni had had. Maybe she’d always wanted kids.

But he _knew_ that Steve wanted kids. And imagining his grief at just discovering that he would have one, only for it to be snatched away…Tony’s heart clenched with pain at the thought.

“So, why the argument?” Tony questioned further, trying not to become so emotionally invested in this. “I would’ve thought they’d reach for each other in their pain.”

“They did,” FRIDAY confirmed. “Or, they tried. But their own feelings kept them from seeing each others’.”

“What do you mean?” Tony demanded. “Their own feelings?”

FRIDAY was silent for a moment, and then asked quietly, “Would you like to see the video?”

Tony almost immediately said ‘yes’, but then he stopped himself to pause and think about it. What could watching the video of their breakup help? But then again, if FRIDAY in her own judgement after being a part of it thought it better for him to see the video, perhaps it was because he would get more from it than just the recitation of events that FRIDAY could give.

“Alright, show me,” he finally agreed, and the holo screen in front of him lit up with a security video of Tony’s room. Although at the time, he could see clear evidence that Steve lived there, too. Now he knew that wasn’t the case – he only had Toni’s things in his room now.

He watched the video, heart breaking unwillingly as the blank spaces were filled in. Apparently, Steve had been trying to convince her to quit being Iron Woman entirely for the duration of her pregnancy, but Toni wasn’t having it. She would only go out on the small missions, because they _needed_ her, and Steve couldn’t even deny that.

The miscarriage was not directly caused by being Iron Woman, though. Toni kept to her word and only went out when she was really needed, and was even more careful than she had been before.

But when they got into an argument about something small, the miscarriage had come up, and Steve had thrown it in her face, blaming Iron Woman for the miscarriage.

She could see the horror and guilt on Steve’s face as soon as the condemning words had left his mouth. He knew that Steve hadn’t meant to say that, didn’t have those feelings at all, but he knew personally what lashing out felt like when you had so much pain _inside_ that you _had_ to let it out on someone.

But he also saw the look on Toni’s face. Rather than fury at the accusation, he only saw self-loathing and guilt. He was familiar enough with _that_ expression – he’d seen it in the mirror often enough. And he knew even before the video continued that she was going to do exactly as Steve had just done and lash out to try and escape her inner pain.

The fight was short after that, but brutal, and by the end of it Steve was grabbing his necessities from the room and fleeing. Toni stared after the man for several moments, before her face finally crumpled and she collapsed on the bed, sobbing.

Tony stared at his alternate self, heart pounding as she continued to weep on the bed. He didn’t know what to do with this. He wasn’t _really_ a woman; he didn’t know how to deal with this or how to relate. He’d never had a miscarriage before. He’d never been married before. Sure, he argued with the Steve Rogers of his universe all the time, but they didn’t care enough about each other to let it get to them as strongly as it had here. Tony had no idea what he was doing in this universe. How was he supposed to help when he hadn’t the first clue where to start? And if he _were_ to make this all better, what about when the _real_ Toni came back? What would happen to hers and Steve’s relationship then, when even if by some miracle Tony managed to fix it, she didn’t remember the fixing actually happening?

“You really think watching that again is going to help you?”

Tony whirled around at the voice, not having heard anyone come in, and he found Sam Wilson standing in the doorway of the workshop.

“You really need to stop beating yourself up about this,” Sam said, kindly but firmly, leaving no room for argument. “What happened is no one’s fault.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Tony blurted. “Sam, I don’t…I don’t even know where to start.”

Sam’s face softened at this admission. “You and Steve have always been particularly stubborn,” he mused. “But don’t forget, Toni, I know you both. I know this has nothing to do with anger, and I think you know it too.”

“It’s guilt,” Tony breathed, knowing as soon as the words left his mouth that it was true. Steve felt guilty for what he had said, and Toni felt guilty because she had no doubt already thought about what Steve had said and his words had only confirmed it. And neither one of them thought the other _should_ forgive them.

Sam smiled sadly at him, remaining quiet as Tony turned these thoughts over in his mind.

Finally, Tony reached a decision. He knew how he could help here. “I need to talk to Steve.”

Sam’s smile was full of relief now. “Well, it’s about damn time.”

***

Steve arrived in the workshop several minutes later, after Sam had left and about ten minutes after Tony had sent a text to him with a request that they talk. Steve looked incredibly nervous, fiddling with his hands and shifting from foot to foot like he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed in, despite having been invited. Tony noticed that Steve also still had the wedding ring on his finger and suddenly felt the urge to bash these two together by their heads. They were so obviously still in love even after almost four months of separation, if they just _talked_ to each other…

Then Tony shook his head to himself. He had no room to go casting stones when he lived in a glass house himself. But that was a thought for Future Tony. This Tony had some things to explain to Steve.

“Toni,” Steve said cautiously as he drew nearer. “I…I just wanted to apologize…”

“Steve,” Tony started, but Steve cut him off.

“No, let me say this,” he insisted, and blew out a nervous breath when Tony subsided. “I want you to know that I really don’t blame you, for – for _anything_. And I know that we can’t ever go back to how things were before…”

“Steve,” Tony interrupted, because this really wasn’t an apology for _him_ , and it was about time that his husband in other universe knew about that. “I’m not your Toni.”

Steve’s face saddened at this, but he went on bravely, “I know, I have no room to call you mine anymore,” he said, and Tony interrupted him again because it had to be against the Constitution or something to make Steve look like he was.

“No, I mean I’m not this _universe’s_ Toni,” he clarified. “I’m – I’m from a universe where I’m not Antonia, I’m Anthony, I’ve _always_ been Anthony. And you’re – you’re still Steve, but we’re not… _like this_. I mean, we’re teammates, but…not anything, you know, _more_. Because you’re straight. Obviously.”

“Toni, you’re not…” Steve shook his head in confusion. “What? Is this – is this about me being bi? Because I still – I married _you_ , Toni, and just because I appreciate…”

“Okay, you’re still not getting it,” Tony blew out a breath, determined to think about the implications of a bisexual Steve Rogers who still married a woman later. “There’s this – woman, who fancies herself as some kind of goddess, and she pulled me out of my own world and has been shoving me in the body of whatever version of me is in other worlds. I guess I’m supposed to learn something in each one, I don’t know. So your whole…deal with your wife? I don’t get it, I’m not a part of it, I hope to _God_ this woman doesn’t send me into the body of a pregnant woman because periods suck enough as it is. Shit, that was insensitive. I just – I saw what happened between you two, and I want to help.”

Steve’s expression had shuttered closed at some point during Tony’s rambling, and now he was eyeing him warily.

“You’re not Toni?” he repeated.

“Tony with a ‘y’,” Tony confirmed. “But don’t worry, I won’t be here forever. Whenever this ‘goddess’ deems that I’ve learned what I need to here, you’ll have your real Toni with an ‘i’ back. I just…wanted to help you two before I’m gone.”

“How could you possibly help us,” Steve said flatly, pain clear in his eyes. “You said yourself, you don’t understand what we’ve been through.”

“I don’t,” Tony agreed, “But I do know how a Tony Stark brain works, and I think I’ve gotten to know enough Steves in my universe hopping that I know a bit about how _your_ brain works, too. That one is still a work in progress, but I’ve got the important bits.”

“And what’s that,” Steve said flatly, disbelievingly, but Tony thought he might have detected a bit of hope in his eyes – hope that his and Toni’s relationship could be mended.

“Toni is never going to bring up what happened,” Tony explained. “She blames herself – probably blamed herself before _you_ even threw it in her face. Sending you off, this separation? She’s punishing herself, and thinks she’s doing what’s best for you, so it’s a win-win in her mind. She thinks that eventually, you’ll come to break up with her, and go find someone else not quite so damaged.”

“She’s _not_ …” Steve began heatedly.

“I _know_ that,” Tony interrupted, though he didn’t really. He knew, on a logical level, that everyone had their regrets and their bad days and their times they really wished they could forget. He knew that he wasn’t special in that regard. But it was hard to _feel_ that way, more than the abstract.

“The point is that she’s waiting on _you_ ,” Tony said. “And no, it’s not fair exactly to expect you to be the one to apologize first. But she thinks she doesn’t deserve forgiveness, so she’s never going to ask for it.”

“That sounds like her,” Steve murmured with a sad smile. “I don’t care about fair. I just want…” he exhaled. “I just want her back.”

“Of course you do, you’re in love with her,” Tony said, not unkindly.

“Yes,” Steve agreed. “She deserves better than me.”

“Maybe so,” Tony shrugged. “But she chose you, for one reason or another, so you need to _fight_ for each other. None of this bullshit of not talking for months because you’ve got guilt complexes the fucking size of Jupiter.”

“Somehow I think you have the same problems, in your own universe,” Steve pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure do,” Tony said without missing a beat. “And if I’m ever married, I’ll try and get over it. But for now, I’m a bitter old man who can be as crochety as he wants. You, my friend, agreed to fight for her when you married her, so _do it_. I don’t care if _she’s_ the one you have to fight to get her, but _you_ don’t give up.”

“Alright,” Steve agreed, exhaling softly. “I’ll fight for her.”

Tony grinned. “ _There’s_ the Steve Rogers I know.”

***

“Well, that was a nice wholesome family moment,” was the first thing Tony said when he felt that floaty feeling he’d come to associate with the dream world.

“As you can see, it didn’t seem to work out in this world,” the woman said placidly, still in Steve’s sort-of form as she sat on the couch in the communal living room. “And yet, it was still meant to be.”

“And you’re trying to tell me that we’re together in _every_ universe?” Tony questioned with a raised eyebrow, plopping down on the couch beside her.

She tilted her head. “Every universe where you both exist,” she clarified.

Tony shook his head disbelievingly. “And why has it not worked out in mine, then?” he demanded. “Why do I have the universe where Steve Rogers hates my guts?”

The woman frowned a bit. “I am surprised that you have not figured it out for yourself,” she mused. “The Steve Rogers in your world does not hate you in the slightest. You merely confuse him, and he does not know how to handle these feelings.”

Tony stared. That made even less sense than all the things he had come across so far in the other universes. And he’d been a woman, _twice_. Nothing in his memories supported her claim about Steve. He was certain the guy hated him – for reminding him of his dead friend, for being the embodiment of the future, for talking too much too fast; you name it.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll ponder that later,” he finally said. “I suppose you’re sending me to another universe to ‘teach’ me something else, then?” He was mostly resigned to it by now.

The “goddess” tilted her head, considering him seriously.

“You need to _know_ him,” she finally decided with a smile. “And I know just where to take you for that.”

***

Tony woke up to the curtains being yanked open and light being thrown across his face. With a groan, he buried his face in the pillow. It seemed he never got _any_ sleep around here. The first morning, waking up in a new body, he felt so tired he was certain that it was because his consciousness had been awake the entire night. He had no way to prove this, of course, but he was positive that he never absorbed the sleep that the actual body he’d entered had received the night previous.

Jesus, he needed to phrase these things differently, he thought with another moan.

“Don’t start that, Tony – you’re going to be late for the shoot,” he heard a familiar voice say, and he raised his head to see Natasha at the window, staring at him with an unimpressed look. Tony shoved his hair out of his face, feeling the length of it as well as the smoothness of his cheek. Great, he was a girl again. Toni with an ‘i’ it was. Maybe Steve was a girl too and they were lesbian lovers? He wondered hopefully.

“Steve is making you breakfast,” Natasha went on as he sat up, not wanting to face the wrath of Natasha Romanoff in _any_ universe, powers or no. “Get your ass in the shower and be ready in ten minutes.”

“Got it,” Tony grumbled, shooting her a thumbs up, and with another look, Natasha left the room.

With a sigh, Tony flopped back on the pillows for a moment, taking stock of the room and what he knew. It was a decently sized room, sparsely decorated but still homey somehow. The bedding was white with blue embroidery. He was a woman, without an arc reactor in his chest and no scarring either, which implied that it was indeed another universe without Captain America and all that entailed. His arms didn’t have as much muscle as the past couple of times he’d been a woman, but they were still slender, which implied that his job did not entail physical activity. Actually, his body was almost worryingly thin, though he only saw his ribs when he lied down, not when he was sitting up, so he was pretty sure he was healthy enough. He didn’t know enough about the female body to make an educated guess.

Suddenly he remembered something Natasha had said – about being late for “the shoot”. Was she talking about a photo shoot?

Shit, he sighed again to himself as he sat up and made his way to the connecting bathroom. Looked like he had another world to figure out.

Oh well, he thought. He’d done it six times before. He was practically a pro at this by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: past miscarriage
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this one. This fic is just about coming to an end! Please let me know what you thought, and if you want to see anything else!


	9. Model Toni & Photographer Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After posting my new fic, "Join the Club", I figured I should hurry up and finish the rest of this fic before I accidentally leave it abandoned. You're welcome!

They did indeed go to a photo shoot. But, rather than the ones that Tony was familiar with in his own world, where the shoots coincided with an article published with it, sharing about something new at Stark Industries or doing a charity piece, he was literally just modeling.

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, it was actually kinda fun.

He wasn’t certain exactly what these photos were for, and it would’ve given him away to ask, but he made about twelve different clothing changes, with outfits that were understated but flattering. When they’d first shown up, they’d been whisked off for hair and makeup, which took about two hours and had Tony wishing he’d thought to bring some more coffee.

But it was fun to model with the others. He actually _knew_ all of the other models, and wasn’t that convenient? There was Natasha, of course, because she was beautiful in any universe; Sam, whom she hadn’t realized could clean up so well; Thor, who looked his usual godly self; Wanda, who exuded the same deadly sort of beauty that Natasha did; Pietro, who somehow pulled off the dyed blond ends in his hair; Bucky, who rocked a bad boy look and was one of the few guys on the planet who could pull off a man bun; and Rhodey…who was also a girl. It took Tony a bit to figure out who she was, but after thinking she looked incredibly familiar and then hearing someone else call her Jamie, she was so excited that someone else was _finally_ the opposite sex that she did a little dance to herself that luckily anyone who saw didn’t think was too odd.

Then, the people running everything behind the scenes he recognized most of them as well. Steve was skinny again in this universe, but he was still definitely the unofficial boss of most of them. He was a photographer, along with an energetic young guy named Peter and a sarcastic girl in her late twenties named Jessica. Bruce was in charge of lights, and his assistant was a guy with a garish scar across his face named Wade who kept abandoning Bruce to flirt with Peter. Clint and a girl named Kate were at the computers, checking…something. Tony never knew what those people did, exactly. Another guy named Peter – though this one was older and had kind of blondish hair – was on props and effects with a girl named Gamora who looked like she would rather be anywhere else. Loki and a girl named Darcy were standing near Steve, ready to move in to adjust any hair or makeup throughout the shoot, and Tony had to keep reminding himself that the Loki of this universe had not tried to enslave the world and didn’t deserve to be clocked in the face. The rest of the people milling about, Tony wasn’t sure what they did and couldn’t catch their names. He supposed it didn’t really matter, because they weren’t interacting with him and he wouldn’t _need_ to know.

During the shoot, Tony was a quick learner – genius, after all – and easily shifted away from his normal poses during photo shoots where he would be every inch the billionaire Tony Stark, and became the flirtatious, sensual model Antonia. He lost track of how many poses they did and what people he was placed with, and it was a lot of work but it was made fun by the camaraderie within the group. Tony had never had this much fun before at photo shoots – those were always a chore where the people were snappy and wanted to get things done perfectly and right so that they could meet whatever deadline they had.

Here, there was still some of that stress, sure, but it was smothered by the easy laughter and teasing scolding within the group he was working with.

He did wonder what that goddess hoped to gain from this, though. It was an odd choice of world to be in, and though he could detect and picked up on the fact that he – or, Toni – and Steve had been in a serious relationship for two years now, there didn’t seem to be anything off that the goddess might think she needed to show him that he could learn from.

When they got out, it was late evening, everything only dimly visible even with the street lights just flickering on.

“I’m starving,” Bucky announced. “Let’s go get some wings.”

There was scattered agreement amongst the group, and the ones who declined parted ways with the rest of them. They were left with a modest group consisting of Steve, Tony, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Natasha, Rhodey (or Jamie, here), and Thor. Some of the other couples like Loki and Darcy went to get pizza, and Tony was pretty sure that Wade and Peter were getting Mexican.

At the bar/club hybrid that they stopped in at, the laughter and teasing carried on like they’d never left the studio. Tony enjoyed the wings immensely, and many of the others ordered drinks that loosened them up enough to go to dance with the rest of the people out there. Tony noticed several eyes trailing over Natasha and Rhodey especially, but they looked perfectly content to dance with their respective partners and paid no heed to the lustful gazes from others. Tony had a moment of disconnect, seeing Rhodey with Thor – not only had he never considered the pairing, but he’d had no idea that Thor could _move_.

“You sure you don’t want to dance?” Steve questioned. He and Tony were the only ones left at their booth, after Tony had declined dancing earlier when he had figured out that Steve couldn’t with his anxiety stopping him. And to be honest, Tony really didn’t mind. Clubs had never really been his scene, anyway.

“I’m alright,” Tony assured the small blond. He slung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him closer to press a kiss to his cheek in reassurance. “I _do_ need to make a pit stop to the little girl’s room, though. Be right back.” He scooted out of the booth, dodging people in the way as they moved drunkenly across the floor.

He used the bathroom with no trouble, while at the same time paranoid that one of the dozen girls in there would suddenly point at him and call him out for being a man in the ladies’ room. Shaking his head to himself, knowing that that was impossible, he made his way out of the bathroom to go back to the booth with Steve.

Along the way however, someone large suddenly stepped in front of him, halting him in his tracks. He automatically took a step back to avoid running into the man, looking up at who had stopped there.

“Hey there,” the guy said with a flirtatious smile. “I’m Brock. Can I buy you a drink?”

The guy wasn’t actually all that bad looking. In any other situation, Tony might have found him attractive, and in a world where he wasn’t already with Steve, he might have taken him home for the night. He had those rugged features and dark hair, but something in his eyes made him uncomfortable at the moment.

And, after all, he _did_ have Steve.

“No thank you,” Tony expressed politely. “I’m here with my boyfriend already.”

The guy – Brock – just laughed and leaned in closer. “And left you all by your lonesome?” he said in what he must have thought was flirtatious but really came off as more of a leer. “If that’s the case, then he really doesn’t know what he has.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s _quite_ aware,” Tony said smartly, attempting to walk around him, but he just moved to block him again.

“He really doesn’t deserve you,” Brock said, leaning in closer like he was going to kiss her. Tony leaned back, glancing around. Where were his friends at? “I can show you a good time. Guaranteed you’ll never want to see him again.”

“Steve cares about more than just what I _look_ like,” Tony said sharply, putting a hand up to stop him from leaning any closer. And when had he been backed into a wall? “And that’s more than I can say about you. I’ve only just met you, and you’re trying to get in my pants without even asking my name. That is _not_ the way to make a girl feel special.”

Brock only laughed softly, practically undressing her with his eyes. “Alright, sugar,” he purred. “What’s your name?”

“She said _back off_ , asshole!”

Tony was instantly relieved to hear the familiar sound of Steve’s righteous fury. Sure, she could’ve punched Brock’s lights out, but she didn’t want to cause any possible trouble for Future Toni.

Meanwhile, Brock turned around at Steve’s voice, and didn’t bother to restrain his laughter when he took in Steve’s form, more than a head shorter than himself and at least half the size.

“And I suppose you’re _Steve_?” he laughed, posture completely relaxed and unthreatened in the face of the 5’5” blond ball of fury.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Steve said evenly, eyes blazing as he stared challengingly up at Brock. “She said no, so _back the fuck away_.”

“Oh, yeah? What’re you gonna do, Shrimp, hm?” Brock goaded. “Gonna give me the what-for? Gonna take her for yourself? You sure you can satisfy her, small little thing that you are?”

“Hey!” Tony cut in angrily, stepping forward and shoving against the brunette’s chest. “Don’t you _dare_ talk to my boyfriend like that!”

“Get out,” Steve said, eyes blazing and fists clenched, ready as always for a fight. “You’re not getting anywhere tonight.”

“You heard the man,” a steely voice cut in, and Tony turned his head to see that Bucky and Clint had appeared next to Steve. Bucky was the one who had spoken, because of course in any world Bucky would be the one to get Steve out of fights. Tony was pretty sure the guy had a radar that pinged whenever Steve got angry. “Get out before we have a problem.”

Wisely, Brock said nothing more, only glaring at all of them before he stormed away, shoving against Clint’s shoulder as he made his way out. Bucky looked ready to go and lay into the guy just for that, but Clint just stopped him with a hand on his arm and a few muttered words that Tony couldn’t hear from where he stood.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked Tony, crossing the short distance between them and taking one of Tony’s hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tony said with a smile. “Thanks for coming. I might have been arrested for assaulting him or something if I’d been alone with him for ten more seconds.”

“Same goes for Stevie,” Bucky chimed in with a smirk. “Though ten seconds might be a little generous.”

Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky’s teasing, but didn’t say anything in retaliation. Tony’s brow furrowed a bit – he looked a bit off, now, and Tony wasn’t sure why. He didn’t look like he wanted to be there anymore though, and Tony could sympathize.

“Come on,” Tony said, nudging him with his shoulder while Bucky and Clint wandered back to the dance floor. “Let’s leave the rest of these clowns and get out of here.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Steve said quickly. “You can keep having fun – I don’t want to spoil that for you.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Steve, I know you don’t want to be here any longer, and that’s fine. We can head home and watch a movie, or something, no biggie.”

“No, you can keep having fun,” Steve insisted. “I can head home on my own, see you in a couple of hours.”

Tony snorted. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t manage to get into a fight along the way,” he retorted, and then gave Steve a smile. “Steve, I have fun because I’m with _you_. I know you’re not having fun anymore – let’s just go.”

“Alright,” Steve finally acquiesced.

The drive home was short but quiet, and Tony couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong. But he hadn’t the first clue what it might be, not knowing this version of Steve inside and out. He determined to try, though.

“Hey,” he finally said, after they had gotten inside the small apartment they shared with Natasha and Sam and Steve still wasn’t sharing whatever was on his mind. “What’s up? You’re being awfully quiet for the Steve Rogers I know and love.”

“It’s nothing,” Steve said with a sigh, turning on the TV and going to Netflix. “Just…the usual stuff.”

Well, that explained absolutely nothing to Tony, who had been in this universe for less than twenty-four hours. He couldn’t admit to that, though, so he plopped down on the couch beside Steve, wrapping his arms around him and leaning his head on Steve’s bony shoulder. He told himself that it was just because he was trying to be the Toni that Steve knew, and ignored the fact that it was actually pretty nice to be this close to the blond.

“Come on, talk to me,” he coaxed, even as Steve scrolled aimlessly through the options on the screen of what to watch. “What’s on your mind tonight?”

Steve sighed and rested his hand on his knee, still holding the remote but no longer scrolling.

“All of my friends are absolutely gorgeous,” he said plainly. “I mean, it makes sense, having no life outside of work, and with work being in the modeling industry. Everyone is unfairly beautiful. I don’t fault you guys for that, really.” He stopped, chewing on his lip for a moment and causing it to flush darker. Tony watched the movement before he came back to himself and looked back up at Steve himself.

“And here I am, the skinny, anemic, asthmatic dork behind the camera,” Steve finished his thought. “And sometimes, going out with all of you, I feel like such a fraud. I’m just a kid from Brooklyn, nothing special. And yet I’m still dating the most gorgeous woman I know, and everyone _else_ can see that we just don’t _match_. How does this even work?”

“Hey,” Tony finally stopped him, squeezing Steve in the arms he still had wrapped around him. “I won’t deny that you’re skinny, or anemic, or asthmatic, or even the dork part. But _don’t_ you say that we don’t ‘match’. What, because you’re not some big buff guy like Bucky or Thor or Sam, you’re not _attractive_?” He shook his head. “Steve, honey, I don’t _care_ what size you are. You are _gorgeous_. No, I mean it,” he spoke over Steve’s protests. “And I’ll say it as often as I need to before it’s driven into your thick skull. And more than that, _I love you_. Alright? I love _you_. I’m not in love with your body, because there’s more to love than just superficial bullshit.

“Your eyes,” he brought one hand up to trace along Steve’s cheekbone. “Your eyes are more beautiful than any other I’ve ever seen. How do you even get them that blue? And the length of your eyelashes is unfair. They’re perfect – a girl would _kill_ to have your kind of lashes.

“And your hands,” he moved his own hands down to take Steve’s in his own. He pressed a kiss to the index finger on his left hand. “Your hands are amazing. Not just how they look, but what they _do_. They’re the perfect artist hands.

“Your lips,” he paused to press a kiss to said lips, lingering for a moment before drawing back a bit and tracing them with one finger. “Your lips are so pretty. And this freckle right here?” he tapped the freckle just past the bow of his top lip. “Love it. Pretty sure I could identify your lips out of a lineup of lips – that’s how often I stare at them.”

Tony paused here, looking at Steve thoughtfully. His expression was lighter, and he clearly looked at Tony with love, but he still seemed a bit troubled, not fully believing Tony’s words.

“How about this,” Tony said, having an idea. “Since you love art so much, think about art in the time of the Renaissance. The paintings. Sure, they all are different people and they’re doing different things, but have you ever noticed that they all look basically the same?”

Steve laughed suddenly at this bit of frank honesty, and Tony insisted, “No, I’m serious!” He grinned, chuckling, before he continued.

“Seriously. The women are all fat and pale, and they have that weird waviness to their hair like it was crimped, or something. And the men either have those funky beards and Lord Farquaad-style hair”—he paused when Steve laughed again—“or they’re naked with square faces and blond hair and a baby penis. Seriously, no grown man has a dick that small!” Tony insisted when Steve began laughing again.

“Anyway,” Tony continued, “They obviously didn’t have cameras in that time, so the paintings were their version of it. And kind of like Photoshop now, they just told the painter to maybe paint them paler, or with better hair, or about twenty pounds heavier, or with a tiny dick, as the case may be. Because that’s what the standard of beauty was at the time. Now, a few hundred years later, we mix up some of these paintings because the people in them all look the same! And it’s _boring_! People want to know what they _really_ looked like!

“So, what I’m getting at here, is that no, you don’t look like every other model out there. But that’s okay, because you’re not Thor, or Bucky, or Clint, or anyone else – you’re _Steve_. And _Steve_ is who I decided be with. I don’t care if you’re a skinny asthmatic little dork, or you’re a superhero. I love _you_. And no one else is going to change that because they are built differently. Capisce?”

“I love you, Toni,” Steve said, pressing his lips to Tony’s. Tony ignored the way his chest fluttered a bit – must’ve been those wings from earlier. “Thank you.”

***

“What an adorable little cinnamon roll,” Tony announced as soon as he found himself back in that in-between world in his dreams.

“I knew you would think so,” the goddess agreed with a smug smile. She was sitting, her back straight and one leg crossed over the other, looking more like she was sitting on a throne than one of the poolside chairs on the seventy-eighth floor. She was still wearing the visage of Steve, and Tony didn’t know why she even bothered anymore.

“So,” Tony said, clapping his hands together expectantly. “Have I learned all I need to yet? Can I go back to _my_ universe now?”

She gazed at him for a long moment, her expression evaluating, before finally, she nodded once. “It seems so.”

“Wait, fuck, _reall_ y?” Tony stopped, surprised at the acquiescence. He’d been asking more out of impatience than honest inquiry.

She looked amused at his surprise, and rose to her feet, walking closer toward him. “Yes,” she responded. “Remember the things you have learned, Tony Stark. Without these things, there will not be a happy ending.”

Tony didn’t have time to respond to this, as she reached out and placed two fingers on his forehead.

He felt like a warm bottle of honey had been poured over his head, making him sleepy and the images around him fuzzy.

Slowly, everything faded to black.

***

Tony had been down in his workshop for almost four days now. Bruce had been down on the first day, but after the other scientist had left the workshop had been put on lockdown. No one could get in without emergency protocols, which only Pepper Potts and James Rhodes had. But it wasn’t an emergency, and the two were out of state, so no one had seen Tony in three days.

Steve wasn’t worried, of course not. He was sure that Tony had food down there. Didn’t Bruce mention that the robots made the billionaire smoothies? Sure, sometimes they were poisoned with car oil, but surely Tony had other food down there. Granola bars, maybe. He was pretty sure there was a coffee machine down there.

Besides, Tony was a grown man. He could take care of himself. It wasn’t like Steve was needed to drag him out to eat sometimes. Yeah.

Steve couldn’t help worrying, though. A lockdown, for three days? Why? What could possibly be wrong? Because there _had_ to be something wrong for no one to have heard from Tony in this long.

Fuck it, Steve decided, rising from his seat on the couch in the communal area. He snapped his sketchbook closed, carrying it with him so that no one else might flip through and see too many drawings of a familiar face and rough, scar-littered hands.

He dropped his sketchbook and pencils on his desk in his room, before he got in the elevator and directed JARVIS to take him down to Tony’s workshop.

He knew that there was a high chance that he may not even get in to the workshop. And if he _did_ , there would likely be a heated argument with shouted insults that left Steve storming off back to his floor. But he told himself, like he had a thousand times before, that perhaps _this_ time, he’d be able to keep his temper in check.

The problem was that he just didn’t know how to _read_ Tony. Tony was the one person who could catch him feeling flat-footed and off balance, leaving him unsure how to react. Inevitably it just left him insulting the man left and right, without even meaning to.

He hoped that one day, he and Tony could have a normal conversation.

When he got to the workshop, he was surprised to see that the windows were completely clear once again. He looked in to see Tony, looking perfectly decent, talking probably to JARVIS while words appeared on the holo screens behind him. It seemed that Tony was dictating notes; he appeared completely in his element and Steve just had to stop and stare for a moment. He told himself that it was him trying to figure the other man out, perhaps what he was doing, exactly, but he couldn’t help the tickling of admiration at the edges of his mind.

Then, on the other side of the glass, Tony paused as JARVIS seemed to say something to him, and then he looked over, making eye contact with Steve. For a moment, he looked stunned, like a deer caught in the headlights, and Steve waved a bit awkwardly, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

At the movement, Tony seemed to come back to himself, and he gestured for Steve to come in. Surprised at the invitation, Steve nonetheless obeyed, stepping forward and pushing the door open.

“Hey, Steve,” Tony chirped, and Steve was again caught off guard when the billionaire actually used his name. He’d never done that before. Tony hardly seemed to notice however, going on, “What’s up?”

This was the friendliest Tony Stark had ever been to him, and again it left Steve feeling flat-footed and unsure how to react. How did the man always manage to do that?

“We haven’t seen you in a few days,” Steve said, still unsure but pretending confidence like he always did. “Just checking in to make sure you hadn’t created Skynet in your spare time.”

To his surprise, Tony actually chuckled at his joke. He’d never laughed at his jokes before, and it made something warm fill in his belly to know that he had inspired that delight in the other man.

“Made it to Terminator, then?” Tony said, sounding genuinely interested in the conversation.

“I liked Robocop better,” Steve admitted with a shrug.

Tony gasped in exaggerated offense. “How dare you,” he hissed. “Arnold Schwarzenegger is _way_ better than Peter Weller.”

A smile tugged at Steve’s lips as he began to relax a bit more at the teasing. Maybe he could do more than spew vitriol with Tony, after all. Maybe one day it could become more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never seen any of the Terminator movies or Robocop, so I really don’t have a preference for either one. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I Googled what I needed to for this.
> 
> One more chapter!


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are, my lovelies! The final chapter! So much fluff to be had...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and following along with me!

Tony was more than a little surprised when he saw the pot of honey in his dream. He knew immediately what it, along with the floatiness he was feeling at the moment, meant.

“It’s been a while,” he called, turning away from the patio table and looking at the woman who stood in the doorway to the balcony. She no longer looked like Steve, dropping the façade completely to reveal a beautiful woman with green eyes and – of course – honey-colored hair. Her clothes vaguely resembled the robes that Greek gods and goddesses wore, but rather than the traditional white it was a soft yellow that shimmered in the sunlight.

The woman hummed. “Yes, almost two years for you,” she agreed. Tony decided not to ask how long it had been from her perspective – he didn’t really care, anyway.

“Please tell me you’ve not come to send me to other universes to learn something else,” Tony sighed.

Her laugh tinkled like a bell. “No, of course not!” she exclaimed. “I’ve simply come to congratulate you.”

“And say ‘I told you so’, I’m sure,” Tony drawled, before shaking his head in disregard, because he didn’t really care what she had to say. He looked down at his left hand, at the vibranium ring around his finger. It had been taken from Steve’s shield. Steve had a matching one that came from the Iron Man armor he’d been in when he met Steve.

“For what it’s worth, I _am_ glad all of that shit happened,” Tony said with a soft smile at the ring, before looking back up at the woman. “But I’ve been thinking about this. And in all the other universes, we were together. Why did you interfere with _me_? Wouldn’t we have eventually gotten together?”

The woman tilted her head slightly. “You would have,” she allowed, “But it would have been much too late.”

“Too late?” Tony repeated. “For what? What would have happened to us?”

The woman sighed and stepped forward. Without fanfare and without further ado, she touched her thumbs gently to his cheekbones, right underneath his eyes.

Images spun in front of Tony almost faster than he could keep up.

_He and the Captain, meeting as they faced down Loki._

_He and the Captain, fighting back to back in the battle against the Chitauri._

_He and Rogers, arguing inside Tony’s Tower._

_Rogers, angrily leaving the Tower after another blistering argument with Tony. He took Natasha with him to DC._

_SHIELD fell, and Rogers and Romanoff and a new guy that present Tony recognized as Sam, fought against them all._

_None of them called for Tony’s help._

_Not even when the Winter Soldier disappeared, and Rogers and Wilson traversed the world to find him._

_Before Rogers left, he appeared to Tony._

_They kissed._

_Steve told him that he couldn’t do a relationship right now, because he needed to focus on finding Bucky first._

_He still didn’t ask for Tony’s help._

_They met together briefly for a mission in Sokovia, because it was a Hydra base and Rogers hoped to find Barnes._

_Tony built an AI that wanted to destroy mankind._

_Steve didn’t trust Tony._

_Wanda and Pietro joined the team. Never mind that they were as much at fault as Tony was._

_They fought the robots._

_Pietro died._

_Tony left the Avengers, because it was clear no one wanted him there._

_They met again for the Accords._

_Tony was scared because everything was slipping and he needed to keep the team together._

_Steve was scared because Bucky was still in the wind and that was dangerous for him._

_The UN meeting was bombed, the Winter Soldier was blamed._

_The Avengers split. Half became fugitives, half were under Ross’ thumb._

_Tony met with Rogers and Barnes to form a compromise._

_The Winter Soldier killed his mom._

_Steve had kept it a secret. He had betrayed him._

_Tony lashed out at Bucky in retaliation._

_Steve fought him._

_Bucky fought him._

_Tony fought back, but it was two super soldiers. He couldn’t win._

_Steve slammed his shield into Tony’s arc reactor. Distantly Tony recalled that Rogers didn’t know he’d had surgery to have it removed from his chest – it was only in the suit._

_Rogers had tried to kill him._

_He left his shield behind._

_It didn’t feel like victory._

Tony gasped as he came back to the present. The woman had removed her hands from Tony’s face. He blinked at her, glancing around to assure himself that that was just a vision of what it _could’ve_ been. It hadn’t actually happened.

“Well, shit,” he finally said, wiping a hand down his face. “Thanks for saving us from that.”

The woman smiled at him happily. “I am glad you are happy in your current circumstances,” she said genuinely. “And I wish you all the best going forward.”

“We’re not going to turn out anything _close_ to that, are we?” Tony said warily, making a gesture to the air around them because he didn’t know where else to point to. “I mean, we’ve had Bucky back almost as long as _I’ve_ been back. And Pietro is still alive. And he and Wanda don’t hate me anymore. And Peter…”

She smiled kindly at him. “Remember the things you learned in your travels,” she advised him, interrupting his rambling about their life now, “And you will be just fine.”

Tony began to feel floaty again like he was about to wake up, and he suddenly remembered something and quickly said, “Wait! What’s the deal with the honey?!”

The woman laughed. “My name is Miele.”

Tony’s brain quickly translated the name, and he sighed exasperatedly to himself. _Of course it’s her **name** , _he thought fuzzily to himself, even as darkness crept across his vision.

A moment later, he woke up in his bed, sitting up automatically. He blinked at the alarm clock across the room. It read 3:17.

“T’ny?” Steve mumbled beside him, shifting in the bed to turn over. “Y’ okay?”

Tony lied back down beside him, smiling as he swept his hand up and down Steve’s back in familiar soothing motions.

“I’m great, Steve,” he said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Steve’s nose. “Go back to sleep.”

Steve obeyed immediately, not fully awake to begin with, and Tony watched his face from the light of the arc reactor. It was the same face he’d studied countless times, and it had the same freckle just past the bow of his lip that every other Steve did.

That was the most important thing, he decided, that he had learned from his dimension and universe hopping. No matter his appearance, Steve was the same person, at his heart, that he was in every other world. And sure, Tony had loved those Steves in his visits. And sure, this Steve from this universe had elements of himself that echoed the other Steves.

But the difference was that _this_ Steve was _his_ Steve. Not just the Steve from his universe, but _his Steve_. And Tony wouldn’t have it any other way.

He remembered what he’d said to the Steve who had been married to Iron Woman – that when you’re married, you _fight_ for that person.

And Tony did. He’d been fighting for his Steve for almost two years now.

He looked forward to fighting for him for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."_
> 
>  
> 
> _\- 1 Corinthians 13:12_


End file.
